


Exposed

by reillyblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Also stiles is 17 and derek's in his twenties so it's underage, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Comedy, Fluff, How about that, Hurt/Comfort, I take some liberties with the tw werewolf mythology ps, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Scent Marking, all that fun kinky werewolf stuff, but only barely, but only sort of, but there's no human/wolf sexual contact, certain people are still alive obv, minimal angst, romcom, so some things might not agree with canon, too - Freeform, we'll call this an au that's very similar to canon, wow I like to play it fast and loose with these warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reillyblack/pseuds/reillyblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a hidden side. Derek's just became a little more obvious.</p><p>Or, that one time Derek reverted to his pure wolf form, and that wolf was convinced Stiles was its mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfic challenge the nature of which I will reveal at the end of the story so I won't spoil the surprise :). 
> 
> Also, the usual warnings apply for 17 year old Stiles and 20-something Derek in a sexual relationship. 
> 
> Take note that while Wolf Derek is convinced that Stiles is his mate, neither of them physically act on that while Derek's in wolf form (in other words, that's the extent of the bestiality elements)

Stiles got the text when he was struggling over Calculus homework, accidentally bleeding ink all over his lips as he tapped the pen tip to his face in deep concentration. 

_Pack meeting, now_

Which was 1. weird because usually Derek called pack meetings and 2. weird because it was a tuesday night after 9, which led Stiles to conclude that something was wrong, and probably that something had to do with Derek. 

Lucky for Stiles, his dad had passed out early from a double shift the night before, so slipping out of the house wasn't much of an issue. Allison, weirdly, was already stalling outside of his house, waving at him. Weirdness #3 of the night. 

"What..." Stiles started, but Allison waved at him frantically to get in the car. "Is this Derek's car?"

"We have to pick up Lydia too so get a move on, Stilinski." Allison took off the moment Stiles closed the door.

"Ok, seriously -- what's going on?"

"Bit of a problem. An alpha problem," Allison answered, worrying her bottom lip. "Scott will fill you in when we get there."

"See, that's not going to work so well." Stiles lifted an eyebrow. "We have a whole car ride together and there's no way we're talking about anything else. Like, what the hell? You were waiting outside my house. Obviously this is a pretty big emergency."

"Sorry, I know we have that calc test tomorrow, but yeah, it's pretty... strange, at least. Not bad."

"Not bad? Okaaay." Stiles gaped at her. 

"Yet," Allison admitted after another moment of expected silence with Stiles staring at her. 

"Yet?"

"Yet. Seriously, we should just wait for Scott to explain. I don't totally understand it. It's a... wolf thing."

"A wolf thing."  

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?" Allison cornered sharply and somehow they were in front of Lydia Martin's house. The redhead was texting on the side of the street, standing there waiting for them. 

"Kind of throwing me for a mystery loop over here." Stiles grumbled before Allison skidded to a stop next to Lydia.

"Hey. What the hell?" Was the first thing Lydia asked as Allison rolled down the window. "I have a calculus test tomorrow so this better be good."

"Get in quick," was all Allison said.

Try as he might, Stiles didn't actually manage to wrangle any other useful information from Allison on the drive. As soon as they walked into the loft, Stiles knew something was off, though. Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Scott all gathered around the couch, their expressions taught and worried. In the middle of their loose circle, on the floor, a big black wolf laid, worrying a bone with barely any meat left on it. 

"Is that..." Stiles gaped. 

"He's stuck." Scott said simply, though those words were packed with enough tension to communicate the gravity of the situation. Good thing, too, because Stiles almost laughed at the sight of Derek acting like... well, like a big dog. 

"Did that really need a werewolf's touch?" Stiles breathed in Allison's general direction. Then, louder for everyone, "Define stuck, Scott."

"We," Scott gestured at the pack, "can't feel him. He doesn't respond to anything said to him in English. I think the wolf's just... taken over. He even smells different."

"What happened?" Lydia asked, far more cool-headed that Stiles was at the moment. Stiles could only stare at the black wolf on the floor. 

"We don't know. Erica and Boyd were here, watching TV I think because Erica's cable's out at her house, and Derek was in the kitchen--"

"He just shifted suddenly. Like, one minute he was standing there staring at the wall, concentrating really hard, and the next he was like this and we couldn't communicate with him at all," Erica finished. They all looked more on edge than Allison, Lydia and Stiles did. 

"We're..." Scott breathed out slowly instead of continuing. 

"The wolves are having a hard time being cut off from their alpha," Allison said quietly. 

"Feels off. Feels wrong." Erica hugged her knees to her chest, and Boyd slipped a hand down to soothe her shoulders. "Feel totally disconnected from everyone, not just him."

"We thought you guys might be able to help." Isaac looked up hopefully at the three of them. He was tapping his foot anxiously as he sat on the floor next to the wolf, curled in on himself like Erica was on the couch. Stiles and Lydia exchanged a look. 

"I feel like this could have waited until after our test tomorrow," Lydia said cooly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Wait," Stiles said, the wheels finally turning again in his head after the initial shock, "if he's all wolfed out, shouldn't you guys feel, I don't know, more connected, not less?"

"That's why I think the human side of him is totally cut off. He's not a werewolf right now, he's just... a wolf." Scott stared as Derek, or Wolf Derek whatever, crunched the remains of his bone in his powerful jaws. 

"Is he dangerous?" Lydia asked, taking a hesitant step back. 

"Not so far. He seems to have no problem with us, anyway, and Allison came over with Scott and he was fine with her, so I don't think it's just werewolves he's cool with."

"Should we test that out?" Stiles licked his lips. Everyone looked at him, and suddenly Stiles felt his heart rate skyrocket. "Who volunteers to save me if he tries to maul me?" Stiles asked, attempting joking and just sounding nervous. 

"I got you." Good old Scott. What a great friend. He was already partially wolfed out in preparation for Stiles's imminent near-death experience. 

"Be my guest," Lydia retreated to a chair farther removed from the powerful animal.

"Come to think of it," Stiles muttered, edging closer to the wolf. "Derek isn't too fond of me either, so let's hope wolf him is cool with my humanness _and_ my Stiles-ness."

"You're fine," Scott told him softly, "his heartbeat's steady."

Stiles got to about two feet away before the wolf perked his ears up and stopped chewing his bone. He lifted his head slowly to level Stiles with a heavy stare. Wow, the red eyes combo with the jet black fur... it was spooky, Stiles wouldn't lie. The wolf could probably smell his fear on him, though, so Stiles tried to calm himself down. He lowered his eyes to the ground. 

"Is it insulting to do what I would do with a dog? Like, see if he wants to lick my hand?" Stiles asked quietly, trying for a very soothing tone. 

There was a pause. 

"Try it. He's not human enough to recognize it as demeaning."

"Ok." Stiles hesitantly lifted a hand out like he would to a stray dog. He was still staring resolutely down at the wolf's paws instead of at his face, so Stiles had no idea what the wolf's expression was. He jumped when the wolf started to rise from the ground. 

"What do I do?" Stiles asked quickly, keeping his eyes down. 

"Don't move, stay calm. His heart rate's still steady." Scott rushed to tell him. 

The wolf was on all fours now, Stiles could tell that much, and moving toward his outstretched hand. Stiles felt the breath from the wolf's nose along his knuckles as it sniffed him. 

"Keep me updated; I don't want to risk looking," Stiles muttered at the ground.

"You're still ok." Scott sounded pretty tense for that to be true. 

The wolf finally licked his hand, but Stiles didn't dare look up yet. Then it nosed under his hand and walked right up next to Stiles, it's long coat brushing Stiles's legs. 

"Whoah," Stiles breathed in relief, straightening up slowly. "That's good, right?" The wolf was smelling his legs intently. Then suddenly he had a nose where many a dog nose had gone before. "Whoah," Stiles repeated in a totally different tone. 

"That's embarrassing," Lydia snorted from somewhere off behind him. The other wolves were either looking pointedly elsewhere or gaping in surprise as Wolf Derek inspected Stiles's crotch. 

"Nobody mention this when he's back to normal," Stiles managed to squeak, willing himself to stand perfectly still even though his instincts were screaming at the invasive gesture. "He'll kill me dead. Totally rip my throat out for this. He's been threatening to for years."

"I think he likes you," Scott mused, back in human form and grinning slightly. 

Wolf Derek decided the other side needed inspecting too. Stiles gasped at the prodding of the nose on his jeans and, again, willed himself into stillness. 

"I am so dead," Stiles moaned just as Wolf Derek finished up his thorough process and sat down next to Stiles's feet. 

"Even though that looked like no fun, I'm going to try," Allison said with reluctance. 

"Please do distract him," Stiles replied, awkwardly standing there unsure of what else he should do. 

Allison got to within about four feet before the wolf's head shot up and his lips curled in what was definitely a growl, though a quiet one. Scott was between them in an instant, claws and teeth out. His own lips were curled, but instead of growling he backed Allison up to put more space between them. 

"Ok." Stiles gaped. "I did not expect that."

"What did I do wrong?" Allison asked, sounding hurt from behind the protective wall of wolfy Scott.

"Nothing. You did exactly what Stiles did," Lydia said, sounding almost gleeful. "I guess he just has a soft spot for you, Stiles."

"That can't be right. Lydia, you try." Stiles frowned down at the great black wolf at his feet. The wolf turned to meet his stare and Stiles froze in surprise, unable to look away from those garnet eyes. But the wolf just stared back for a few beats before it bumped its nose against Stiles leg. Stiles lifted his hand and tentatively placed it on the shoulder of the wolf. It looked back at him, blinked slowly, and whined. 

"What's that mean? Do you werewolves speak wolf?" Stiles asked, panicking. The wolf whined again, licking at the barest strip of skin between Stiles's pants and his shirt. Stiles shivered at the unexpected touch of the wolf's rough tongue.

"It's..." Erica frowned. "It's not a bad thing, don't worry."

"Stiles..." Scott was back in human form, a smile tugging on his serious features. "I think Wolf Derek _really_ likes you." 

When Stiles looked around, almost all the wolves had identical shit-eating grins, except for Boyd, who looked like he was working pretty hard to suppress one. 

"Guys. What do you mean by that?" Stiles demanded.

"It smells like... it smells like he thinks you're his mate, Stiles," Isaac admitted almost gleefully.

"Excuse me?" Stiles gaped. 

"Yeah. Sorry, man." Scott shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. "He didn't do this to any of us. At least he likes you, right? Mission accomplished." 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Wolf Derek seemed determined to keep Stiles within five feet. When he got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, the wolf followed and watched him. Stiles went to sit on the couch, Wolf Derek followed and laid at his feet. The wolf closed his eyes and started to nap while everyone else watched them with far too much amusement and curiosity. 

"What I don't get," Stiles whispered for Wolf Derek's benefit, "is why he's a wolf-wolf and not a werewolf-wolf. This looks nothing like an alpha who's fully shifted. This looks like the wolves you see on animal planet."

"We have no idea." Erica shrugged. "It's as much of a mystery to us as it is to you."

"Ok, well I guess," Stiles ran a hand down his face in exasperation and exhaustion, "I guess I could do some research tonight, after I'm done studying for my stupid calc test." Stiles grinned at a thought. "Hey, this makes us a real life Scooby gang."

"Thanks Stiles." Isaac looked up at him with a timid smile. Stiles swallowed back any other complaints at the look of relief in Isaac's face. All the wolves seemed tense and disoriented, despite their fascination with Wolf Derek's bad taste in mates. 

"Do you think he'll... do you think he'll let me go? Because my dad will definitely notice if I'm not there in the morning. Definitely." 

"We could throw a ball and you could try running out the door while he's distracted," Allison suggested. 

The wolves looked at each other in a pained silence. 

"That's not going to work," Scott sounded somewhat offended, but also trying not to be because it was Allison. 

"It might." Stiles grimaced at Scott's look of betrayal. "Hey, don't take it personally Scott, come on! He just finished gnawing on a bone and sniffing my crotch. Just saying." 

"I can't watch this," Scott sighed and turned his back. 

"Ok, uhhhh.... I need a ball or something." 

"I have a frisbee in my bag," Boyd offered. "We were at the park before this." 

"Great!" Stiles held his hand out for the green frisbee Boyd retrieved from his backpack. "Ok. Here goes nothing."

Stiles first waved the frisbee around to catch the wolf's attention. Once its garnet eyes were trained on the disc, Stiles chucked it as hard as he could in the opposite direction of the door. He got up and ran like his life depended on it, but he got about six uncoordinated steps before he went down hard, four paws on his back and thighs that knocked the wind out of him. 

"Stiles! You ok?" Bless Scott. 

Stiles gasped for air, stunned by the sudden lack of it. He felt the wolf heavy on his back, its nose wet as it knocked against his ear. He heard a soft growl come as teeth closed, not hard but not too tight, around the nape of his neck. 

"Stiles!" Stiles wasn't sure who it was this time, it sounded like a few people all at once, but to prevent any of his friends from getting their arms chomped off by his pissed off apparent wolf fiance Stiles sucked in enough air to say, "I'm ok. It doesn't hurt. Stay back."

The wolf released him a few moments later, stepping off his back and sitting down next to him as Stiles struggled to his knees. 

"Damn, dude," Stiles panted, the wolf eyeing him innocently. "You don't mess around, do you?"

"Stiles, hate to break this to you, but wolves often mate for life," Isaac scrunched up his nose, "and Derek seems to be the clingy type." 

"No shit." 

 

* * *

 

 Stiles wasn't so lucky with sneaking back in as he was sneaking out. His dad was sitting in the dark waiting for him with a single lamp on, the kind of Sherriff theatrics Stiles had grown up with and still somehow was not used to. 

"Jesus, dad." Stiles jumped when he noticed him. 

"What is that?" His dad asked immediately. 

"Um." Stiles was starting to wonder if he was crazy for thinking this would work. "Meet Shadow. He's my friend... Danny's... dog, and his family's having an emergency and asked me to watch him for a few days."

"That's a wolf." His dad surprised him with his animal planet knowledge. 

"Close. He's a husky. A very large, freaky looking husky." 

"He's black."

"Sometimes they're like that, yeah."

"He has red eyes," his dad pressed, his eyebrows climbing higher with each point. 

"He hasn't had a very good day, I dunno, maybe he's mad," Stiles mumbled. His dad had a point; if this was a dog, it was a demon dog. His dad frowned at him and Stiles knew there would be a more thorough investigation in the future. Then he seemed to decide it was too late to argue over it because he conceded. 

"You feed, water, and take him outside, and he doesn't stay for more than a week."

"Oh, yeah, of course! I'll just-- we'll just go upstairs now, we've-- I've-- got a big calc test tomorrow and I really need to study, soooo." Stiles practically ran up the stairs, relief rushing through him. The wolf followed hot on his heels. He curled up on Stiles's bed while Stiles returned to his desk to try to cram in just one more hour of studying before his adderall failed him and he passed out. 

Apparently the most comfortable spot on Stiles's bed was right in the middle because Stiles could not get the giant wolf to budge. He ended up sleeping with his toes crammed into the corner of his bed, his legs curled awkwardly around the bulk of the wolf on his covers. 

"Seriously?" Stiles whispered at the dark ceiling, a cramp starting in his calf from the weird position. "Derek, you serious right now? Don't I even get a say in this whole mating thing? Didn't your parents ever give you the consent talk? No means no? You just superglue yourself to my legs and apparently that's wolf love. Your human side doesn't even _like_ me, so this is just totally bizarre. Downright unnatural, even. And not very considerate, wolfman. Maybe I don't want to share my bed-- clearly there's not enough room." Stiles still wasn't clear on how the separate but the same thing worked for the wolf on his bed and the Derek who shoved him against walls, and he was too tired and frustrated to think about it.

A soft whine came from the mass next to his legs and Stiles started at the sound. He clicked his bedside lamp on and checked for signs of understanding from the wolf. It blinked sleepily at him, its garnet eyes trained on his face, which was something. It whined again, its ears flattening somewhat on its head as it nosed at his leg. "Derek can you understand me? Wag your tail once for yes, twice for no." 

Another slow, sleepy blink. The wolf's tail stayed immobile on the bed.

"Come on Scooby Doo, you can get this. Just lift that tail and wag it all about." 

Stiles tried one more time before exhaustion took over and he collapsed back into his bed, turned the light off, and passed out, uncomfortable or not. 

 

* * *

 

 

Scott came by the next morning before school with more meaty bones from the butcher to feed to Wolf Derek, and good thing too because Stiles got as far as setting out a bowl of water and staring blankly at the contents of his fridge in his "feeding Derek" conundrum.

"You rock, you know that?" Stiles took the bag of bones happily.

"Have you... have you taken him outside yet?" Scott asked, sounding pained. 

"Shit. I didn't even want to think about that." Stiles deflated. Derek was going to murder him, no doubt, when he found out about this. Stiles should really start writing his will. Actually, he probably should have done that the moment Scott became a werewolf.

"He probably has to go bad," Scott shifted uncomfortably. "We didn't even take him out yesterday. It's... we can't avoid it anymore."

"We're all friends here, right?" Stiles laughed nervously. The wolf stared at him, his red eyes more intimidating than ever. "You want to go for a little walk?" Stiles's voice quavered into pre-pubescent territory. He turned back to Scott to hiss, "Dude, let's just let him out in the woods. We won't have to deal with it that way, and no one has to get their throat ripped out when Derek's humanoid again. Well, not for this, anyway."

"That's a great idea." Scott nodded. "Let's go."

It makes them late to their first class, but it's totally worth it not to have to track down and clean up Wolf Derek poo. The walk takes about a half and hour, but it's locking Wolf Derek in Stiles's room that actually makes them late. Stiles distracts Wolf Derek with three nice, big, juicy bones, and the wolf still tries to tackle him as he runs from the room. Three attempts and many bruises later, Scott finally manages to get the door shut and locked behind Stiles.

School passes without any other incident, though Stiles keeps an eye on his phone for an angry call from his dad about Wolf Derek getting out and terrorizing his house. It's almost weird to have a little time without his furry black shadow following him around. 

His calculus test, unsurprisingly, could have gone better.

 

* * *

   

"Please don't be wrecked. Please don't be wrecked." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and prayed as he unlocked the door to his room and slowly peeked around the door to see the state of his room. The big black wolf was already looking at him from where he was curled up on Stiles's bed, his garnet eyes alert and awake. He huffed a little sound and jumped off the bed to greet him, which turned out to be a sniff at Stiles's legs and some light whining. 

"Hey, big guy." Stiles sighed. "Thanks for not tearing everything apart in here while I was gone."  
  
The wolf stared at him and whined. Stiles sank to his knees and the wolf nudged at his neck while Stiles petted his long, black fur. It was surprisingly coarse, but the undercoat was fine and soft if Stiles sank his fingers in deep enough. The wolf nosed at his ear next before a big, rough tongue licked over his cheek. 

"Thanks, buddy. I'm guessing you're about ready for another walk in the woods, huh?" Stiles leaned into the touch of the wolf's head, running his hands through the coarse fur again. It was actually nice. He wished the human side of Derek would take some (definitely not all) notes from his wolf side once in a while and show some affection. Maybe not licking Stiles's face, but the human equivalent-- like, say, actually _smiling_  once in a while. 

Wolf Derek seemed to love the woods. He took off running from Stiles's side the second they were out of the car, returning a few minutes later to stare at Stiles before running off again. 

Stiles waited patiently on a log for Wolf Derek to run himself tired. He texted Scott. 

_Did you ask Deaton about this mess?_

**_he's heard of this happening before. It's a really rare condition._ **

_What, really? He actually knows what's going on?_  
  


**_Yeah, but dude, it's 2 much to text. Pack meeting in 30? Derek's place_ **

_K. Probably be l8. Hachiko's running the woods_

**_We'll wait 4 u_ **

Wolf Derek returned every five minutes to check on Stiles until one time it came back with a dead rabbit in its powerful jaws. Wolf Derek dropped the rabbit at Stiles's feet and whined, looking at him expectantly. 

"Oh. _Oh_ , you know that's great, really great, but I already ate today." Stiles put a hand to his stomach, hoping something might make sense to the wolf. He really didn't want to insult it. The wolf whined and stamped its paw at the ground. Guess Derek's wolf side was just as impatient as his human side. 

"No, really. You have it. I guarantee you'll enjoy it more than I will."

The wolf actually growled at him this time, which was a first in their new, weird wolf-human relationship. Stiles figured that meant it was serious about the offering and he better not refuse. "You are just as pushy as Derek, jeez." Stiles stooped and picked up the rabbit by the very tip of its foot. He held it at an arm's length and made delighted sounds at the wolf. 

"Mmmmm, yummmm, thanks! Love it. Just the best. Who doesn't love dead rabbit?" Stiles faked a smile, but the wolf seemed to buy it because his expression went neutral and he started walking back to Stiles's jeep. Which seemed... pretty smart. 

"Hey Derek, do you know where we're going? Whine twice if you understand," Stiles tried, tentatively hopeful. The wolf turned to look back him before jumping in the back of the jeep. 

"Let's just hope Scott has a way to fix this," Stiles sighed at the poor dead rabbit.  

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Predictably, everyone else in the pack arrived before Stiles could wrangle Wolf Derek back into his jeep to make the journey. The two of them opened the door to the pack already digging into a stack of pizzas. The wolves still looked tense compared to the humans in the pack with shadows under most of their eyes. 

Wolf Derek followed Stiles to a spot on the couch and sat down next to him on the floor, looking alert and almost like it was part of the circle, ready and willing to discuss the problem of itself. Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes at the wolf's clearly alpha attitude towards the pack that kicked in even when it had no idea what was going on. 

"So I spoke to Deaton about this and he said he's heard about it. Apparently, it's a rare condition that only occurs in alphas, as alphas are the most in-tune with their wolf side. It happens when the wolf instincts and the human instincts really clash on some issue or feeling -- but not just once, it has to be over a long, long period of time. We're talking months to years. And it has to be something of great importance to the wolf."

"So, not like 'I want to bite that person' and then 'no that's our friend we don't bite them' kind of spats that happen every day," Jackson clarified.

"Every day?" Lydia eyed him. 

"Right. So it's something big and important that the wolf instincts feel strongly about, but the human (and dominant) side resist. If it's important enough, the wolf basically gets fed up with the human and fights for control of the body. When it wins that battle, we get this," Scott nodded to the black wolf at Stiles's feet. "The wolf in its dominant form. Derek's still in there, but he's on the back burner."

"So here's an important question: is he going to remember any of this when he snaps out of it?" Stiles's leg jumped nervously as he voiced the thought that had plagued him since Wolf Derek first sniffed his crotch. 

"Deaton's not sure." Scott chewed the side of his lip. 

"Lovely," Stiles sighed, throwing his hands up. "Just perfect."

"More important question: how do we snap him out of it?" Isaac wondered.

"We don't." Scott shrugged even as the rest of the wolves tensed. "The wolf's won control over the body and it's on a mission. Until it accomplishes what it set out to do, Derek will remain dormant, in the same sort of position the wolf usually occupies. We can't do anything about it but help the wolf finish what it started." 

"Ok, so how in the hell are we supposed to figure out what Derek's giant internal struggle was over?" Stiles was feeling more and more hopeless. "It was  _internal, a_ nd the dude wasn't chatty about his feelings or his problems as far as I know."

Everyone in the group was staring at him now, and Stiles felt like the silence was more awkward than despairing. 

"Stiles." Scott cleared his throat and crossed his arms in front of him. "We're all pretty sure that  _you_  were his big problem."

Stiles's brain short circuited for a moment. 

" _What?_ "

"He's done nothing but follow you around since he wolfed out. Before you came in he wasn't interested in anything. The wolf thinks you're his mate."

"But Derek doesn't." Stiles finally tracked their thought process. "And Derek's been fighting that for however long it took for the wolf to say enough is enough and Yeerk out his body."

"Yeerk?" Lydia squinted at him. 

"You never read Animorphs as a kid? Really?" Scott asked her. 

"Hey! Focus! Giant, huge, red letter problem over here in the form of a wolf that won't leave me alone!" Stiles was nearing panic levels. What did the wolf want from him? To bring him rabbits from now until the rest of eternity? To take up his whole bed forever? 

"Stiles, calm down." Boyd watched him closely.

"No, what does this thing need to be satisfied?" Stiles stared at the wolf, who stared back. 

"That's where Deaton wasn't sure. For right now, it seems like he just wants to be near you and fulfill the duties of a mate, like protect you and watch over you. Maybe once he feels like you like him too, Derek will pop back out." Scott suggested. Stiles suddenly had a feeling that all the wolves were way too nonchalant about this; they were just happily eating their pizza while Stiles was nearing a panic attack. He sat for a few moments processing while the others enjoyed their food. For the first time in a long time he wasn't up for a slice. 

"It's gotta be something else. I'm not buying this." Stiles shook his head. "Derek couldn't care less about me. Actually  _could not care less_. For example: pretty sure he even forgets my name sometimes."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? Derek's determined not to like you and the wolf's determined to do the opposite," Isaac pointed out. "Makes sense to me."

"Look, wolves are cool, but they aren't complicated," Erica explained cooly. "I may not have the most experience, but I can tell you that my wolf instincts pretty much revolve around pack, eating, fighting, and fu--" 

"OK, got it." Stiles held his hands up in a desperate plea for her to  _stop right there_.  

"I'm just saying, if you're looking for some philosophical, complex issue here, you're not going to find it. We're his pack, and he seems to be cool with us; no issues there. He doesn't seem to be looking for a fight. Eating doesn't represent any great challenges for him. That leaves... well, you know," Erica reasoned around a bite of pizza.

"Ok, well lets be clear, and Wolf Derek you better listen up," Stiles mustered the most stern, serious voice he could manage, "there will be no  _mating_ of any sort while he's like this, so we're going to have to find another way to reverse this thing."

"I don't think you actually have to...  _mate_  to reverse this." Scott squished his face in disgust. "Also, pretty sure that's illegal."

"And yucky," Stiles added dramatically, flailing. "Astronomically high yuck levels."

"What about when he's not like this," Lydia asked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "What then, Stiles?"

"Oh, wow, I cannot deal with this." Stiles blew a hefty breath out.  

"That's a yes," Lydia said primly. "He's definitely up for it."

"I didn't say that!" Stiles exclaimed instantly, eyes darting to the wolf. 

"Hey, wolf, if you let Derek back out you might get what you want." Lydia smirked at the wolf, wiggling her eyebrows to her sing-song voice. The wolf tilted its head quizzically at her and Stiles's stomach flipped.

"The guy hates me. This really can't be happening."

"Stiles!" Scott rolled his eyes, cheese hanging between his lips and a slice of pizza while he chewed. "Clearly, he doesn't hate you. He's just bad at showing that."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. 

"Ok,  _really_ bad at showing it."

"Stiles, I found this in the kitchen right where Derek shifted." Boyd threw Stiles something soft. Stiles picked it up to look at it and recognized it instantly as the sweat shirt he'd lost the other day. " He must have found it lying around and it triggered this problem."

"The straw that broke the camel's back," Allison surmised as she looked over the unremarkable sweat shirt. None of them seemed to be taking this as seriously as Stiles felt they should. 

"If it makes you feel any better, I would guess the wolf isn't attracted to you physically -- it's more of, like, a mate mentality," Scott added.

"So not only do I physically repulse Derek, but the wolf too?" Stiles clarified dryly. "Awesome. Ego boost of the century, let me tell you. A guy would rather turn into a wolf than face an attraction to me."

Scott patted Stiles's back in sympathy. 

 

* * *

  

Stiles was slightly less than enthusiastic about taking Wolf Derek back home after that explanation. He was starting to suspect the rest of the pack, despite their original concern and unnerve at being cut off from each other, was starting to find the situation funny rather than dire. Stiles very much disagreed. 

"Don't try anything, ok?" Stiles hugged his folded sleep t-shirt and sweat pants to his body and glared at the wolf sitting patiently on his floor waiting for him to go to bed. Like hell was he getting dressed with that thing staring at him. "Don't get any funny ideas."

"I'm just peeing, jesus!" Stiles bodily shoved the wolf back against the door as it tried to follow him into the bathroom. He was starting to find the wolf less cute and more obnoxious, which may or may not have been connected to his rising levels of panic about when the thing was ever going to leave him alone. Scott's "theory" that it just wanted to perform the duties of a mate had no time limit to it and that's exactly what Stiles didn't want to hear. He needed an end-point to be ok with this Lady and the Tramp situation. 

A forever clingy wolf shadow that wouldn't let anyone get within two feet of him wasn't exactly his idea of a bright future. 

Not to mention, Stiles was a teenage guy. He needed his fucking privacy, and a lot more than the five minute pee breaks the wolf allowed before it started whining at the door.

"Fuck," Stiles breathed out and dropped his head back, his hand stilling on his cock. "Seriously?" 

The wolf whined, scratching at the door and huffing at the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. 

Stiles gave up and tucked himself back into his sweat pants. He didn't look at the wolf as he clicked his light off and went straight to bed. The wolf curled up in the middle of the bed like before and Stiles stared at the dark ceiling and listened to it breathe for a long while before he could fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

By the weekend, things got a little better. The wolf eased up on his shadow attitude when they got into a more predictable routine, and Stiles actually made it to class on time when the wolf realized Stiles wasn't leaving forever (just for the day) and quit sabotaging Stiles's efforts to escape his room in the morning. 

Scott and Stiles went for a long hike in the woods with the wolf on Saturday, and the wolf brought Stiles offerings of three squirrels. Scott hid his laughter under his hand as Stiles pretended to coo over each squirrel before throwing it back into the woods at the first opportunity. The wolf sat too close to Stiles when they stopped for lunch, rubbing against his side and nosing along his shoulder.

"In all seriousness, what do you think of this situation?" Scott wanted to know while they ate their lunch.

Stiles shrugged. He fed the wolf some of his string cheese when the wolf sniffed at it with interest.

"Is he driving you insane?" Scott asked, seeming to actually care about the answer even though he'd mercilessly teased him over Wolf Derek's codependence all week long.

"Duh," Stiles said. Then, after a moment of considering the deep red eyes watching him, he amended, "He's not all bad. It's kind of nice to have this kind of... devoted..." _or obsessive and creepy_ "...companionship. I've never had someone even want to date me, let alone want me glued to their hip 24/7."

"Sort of redefines puppy love, huh," Scott joked, grinning around his beef jerky.

"I really don't get how this could be the same Derek. Ok, I get it theoretically, but practically? The dude looks like..." Stiles waved his hand vaguely and Scott's eyebrows shot up, "and I look like--" Stiles gestured to all 5'11'', plaid, nerdy t-shirt, and decidedly average looks of himself. 

"Dude." Scott sounded offended on his behalf. Stiles moved onto his next argument quickly. 

"Most importantly, you've seen Derek around me; he's certainly never licked my face, or shown any indication of wanting to lick my face." 

"More like slammed it against things," Scott agreed. 

"Right?" Stiles jumped at the validation. He carded a hand through the wolf's fur until it settled enough to lie down next to him. "I just don't buy it. Honestly, we should be looking into other possibilities. Like, maybe it's attached to me because I perpetually smell like... red meat. I dunno. In that case, spending more time with me isn't the solution to the shapeshifting problem."

"Stiles, I can tell you that you smell like your deodorant, body wash, and sort of salty spicy."

"Salty spicey?"

"Uh... kind of like that feeling when you bite into a really great Mexican burrito."

"I smell like a Mexican burrito?" Stiles wrinkled his nose in disappointment.

"No! It's hard to describe, but you don't smell like red meat or whatever."

"Maybe not to your beta nose, but to the awesome power of an alpha in true form? I'm just saying, maybe we shouldn't be so quick to throw that idea out." Stiles was well aware he was arguing more for arguing's sake now, but he refused to accept the pack's crazy theory. One they all accepted way too easily, in Stiles's humble opinion. "Come on, we're smart, damn it. Well, if we put everyone's collective IQs together, I think we can be smart. There've got to be other possibilities that we can figure out."

Scott sighed, looking off into the woods. 

"I suppose we could dig around in Derek's apartment." Scott frowned. "But that's sort of a... serious invasion of privacy. He's not going to be happy about it when he comes out of this."

"Yes!" Stiles agreed emphatically, nodding his head. "But Scott, desperate times call for desperate measures, right? I'm sure when we figure out the _real_ reason for this blues clues problem, he'll be thanking us -- or at least not ripping our heads off -- for doing whatever we could to restore him to his former glory. Also, when has Derek _ever,_ in all his long history of lurking in the shadows and popping up mysteriously everywhere, cared about _our_ privacy?" Stiles was already scurrying to his feet, the wolf leaping up with him, obviously clueless as to their less than innocent mission. "Seriously, no time to lose, Scott. Up and at 'em."

 

* * *

 

"You owe me ten bucks." 

"This doesn't prove anything." At least Scott didn't laugh at him -- that would have been too cruel. "If anything, this backs up my meat-smelling theory." 

"Dude. Ten bucks. Now."

"It's not _that_ creepy, right?"

"It's creepy." Scott said before he swallowed hard. "But..."

"But?"

"But I kind of understand it."

They stared at the small pile of Stiles's belongings they'd found in a shoebox under Derek's bed: another shirt Stiles must have left at the loft at some point, a keychain that was broken at the top and fell off of Stiles's keys sometime recently, and a bracelet he'd lost almost a year ago.

"You leave so much shit lying around, Stiles. You left your English book at my house the other day," Scott scolded him.

"That's what you're taking from this?" Stiles stared at his friend incredulously. "That I'm air headed? You just said you understand this. How. Please explain." 

"It's a wolf thing," Scott admitted. "These things all smells like you. I can smell it from here without shifting. I kept a hair band of Allison's nearby my bed when we were broken up, though I will never tell her that and you aren't allowed to either."  
  
Stiles brought his hands to his face, massaging his eyes against a steadily growing headache.  

"Ten bucks, Stiles."

"No. I refuse to believe that this is happening, that this is reality. I can't believe that Derek could act like such an asshole to me and then keep _my bracelet_ in a box under his bed. No way. Uh-uh." Stiles was actually starting to feel angry at the stupid lurker. How dare he do something like this and then make Stiles feel like he didn't even notice him, didn't care one way or the other about him. "This doesn't prove anything," Stiles whispered more to himself than to Scott. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always feel torn between more frequent, shorter chapters, and giant, rare posts. This is a baby post today, but my next chapter should be longer. Which do you readers prefer?

"So, I know this is weird for you, but it's been almost a week now, Stiles. While at first it was kind of funny, we're running out of time on this." Scott sat on his bed and watched the wolf chew its nightly bones on the floor by Stiles's bed. "All the wolves in the pack are starting to feel... we don't feel great, I'll be honest with you. We're starting to feel a little too omega-like for comfort."

"Yeah, my dad gave me a week deadline for Shadow too. We have to figure this out."

Stiles watched the wolf crack a bone in half with a surprisingly loud snap. Stiles jumped and winced at the sight of its powerful jaws drawing the meat from the bone, imagining himself in its bite instead. 

"You've spent all this time with him. Do you have any ideas on how to get through to him?" Scott pressed.  

Stiles did have an idea, but no way was he sharing that with Scott; Scott wasn't likely to be the most supportive of his creative solution. He shrugged instead of answering. 

Scott left a few hours later after a bout of video games and junk food. Stiles sighed as he closed the door behind him and trudged up to his room. He stopped at the door and steeled himself, calling on every bit of his courage.

"Shadow," Stiles called as he walked in, sitting down on his bed and patting the wide space in front of him for the wolf to leap up on. "Come here."

The wolf perked up its ears and leaped up onto the bed with him. It sat with ears alert and tilted its head at Stiles as Stiles drew his legs up to his chest and settled more comfortably on the bed. 

Stiles made himself look into the garnet eyes fixed on him. "Derek," Stiles said slowly. "Derek, I know you can hear me sometimes, maybe not all of the time -- or even most of the time -- but I need this to be one of those times. I officially give you permission to... rip out my throat or whatever if we're wrong about this, but until then... I don't hate you, ok? You're... I mean, if you're... actually kind of _into me_ , that wouldn't be the worst thing. I'm telling you that I'd be up to see where that goes. Read my heartbeat -- you know I'm not lying. No, uh, mating promises, but a date wouldn't be... I'd be down for a date or something. Sure, at first I hated your guts and kind of wanted you to die, but in my defense you threatened to kill me too multiple times. But... I've gotten to know you since then. It's not the worst thing if... your _wolf._.. has a big old crush on me. We both owe it to Shadow to give it a shot. Do it for the poor, super clingy wolf." Stiles tried to smile reassuringly. 

The wolf blinked slowly and growled at him. Stiles smiled wider. 

"There he is," he said softly, carding a hand through the wolf's coat. The wolf flinched at the touch but let his hand stay. "You're not gonna hurt me, right?" Stiles asked more confidently than he felt. 

The wolf growled again in response, but opted to ignore him by curling up on the bed and shutting its eyes. Stiles soothed the wolf with a hand in its fur. "Dream of two legs, big guy. Visualize the goal, like coach says."

The wolf growled again. Stiles laughed. 

"You really  _are_ in there. Buried somewhere."

 

* * *

 

When Stiles woke up, Shadow was gone. He had a brief moment of flailing panic where he fell out of the bed and scrambled around for his phone. 

"Scott! Scott, any of your werewolf senses feel extra tingly this morning?"

Scott yawned into the phone. Stiles waited semi-patiently.

"Werewolf sense, what-- oh! _Oh._ He's back; I feel the pack again." 

"Oh, thank god." Stiles sank into his bed in relief. "Shadow's gone, so I was hoping that meant good news rather than bad."

"You did something!" Scott sounded excited. 

"I-- we can talk about it later."

  
"What did you do?" Scott asked, more suspicious than excited now. 

"Nothing," Stiles said too quickly. 

_"Stiles."_

"I might have agreed to date him." Stiles winced at his own words and ran a hand nervously through his hair.

Scott was dead silent on the other end. Then, "Stiles, what the hell?" 

"You said you were running out of time! I had another plan to wait and see what happened if we just spent a bunch of time together, but this was the backup plan, and I was pretty sure it would work. Plus, my dad was getting ready to ship Shadow to an address I gave him in Germany where Danny's supposedly having a family emergency."

"What--"

"Long story. The point is, is it so bad someone wants to date me? I was starting to think it wasn't a thing that would ever happen."

"It's Derek. Derek. _Derek_. I'm not letting you do this."

"Yes thank you, _dad_ , but you're just my best friend and not the sheriff so I get to decide who I date or don't date. _Oooh_ , actually my dad probably shouldn't find out about this, not after he arrested him as a murder suspect..." Stiles thought aloud.

"You're not doing this," Scott said fiercely. "He's human again so you don't have to go through with it."

"Scott-- trust me. This worked, and I don't mind. We don't want him, like, shifting back permanently or something because I was too chicken to give him a break."

"Stiles--" 

"I gotta go. I've gotta stop by the loft before school for peace of mind. Byyye." Stiles hung up quickly. 

Out of habit, Stiles put out a fresh bowl of water and dumped a pile of bones on the floor before he realized what he was doing. 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles knocked five times before he finally got fed up with waiting. 

"Come on, dude. You know it's me. Let me in."

Stiles waited patiently for another minute before resuming his knocking -- this time incessantly with no breaks. 

"Will you _stop,_ " Derek snarled as he wrenched the door open after what felt like forever based on the stinging in Stiles's knuckles. 

"You are alive. Good." Stiles beamed at him. "I was expecting... I don't know what I was expecting." He looked completely healthy, same jet black hair sticking up stylistically messy, same vivid glare, same permanent frown. Same rippling pecks and bulging biceps. Gulp. 

"Yes. I'm alive. Go to school." Derek glared at him, crossing his powerful arms over his chest. Stiles was reminded of the knots of muscle on Shadow and he wondered how much Derek and his wolf had in common beyond physical similarities. The image Derek projected at them couldn't be too far from the truth, could it?

Stiles shifted nervously on his feet. Dang, he forgot how powerful that glare could be. 

"Stop moping," Stiles managed to say it somewhat forcefully.

"I'm. Not. Moping," Derek grit out through clenched teeth. "Leave. Now."

"Ok. Just a quick thing -- are you picking me up at eight, or..."

" _Now_ Stiles," Derek said, quiet but deadly.

"Yeah, yeah ok. Jeez." Stiles jumped and did as Derek told him.  

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting patiently with me in the shortest slow-build ever. You guys rock. We do still have some waiting to do, though :P.

Stiles tried texting and calling Derek after school, but Derek didn't answer either. Stiles even stopped by the loft and tried his knock-til-you-drop technique out for round two, but it was a no go. 

_playing hard to get I see_

Stiles snorted at his own text. A week ago he might have quivered in his shoes sending a text like that to Derek, but Shadow had really changed his perspective on the werewolf. He was less intimidating to him now, and more of a... highly repressed cuddly wolf. His phone vibrated in his pocket only a minute later and Stiles jumped at the feel of it. 

**_leave me alone_ **

Stiles glared at his phone. 

_stop moping_

**_I'm NOT moping_ **

Stiles gave up, if only momentarily, to drive back home and skype Lydia for advice since Scott was being such a butt about the whole dating plan. 

Lydia popped up on his screen with a vaguely annoyed, "What, Stiles?"

"Lydia, what do you do when a werewolf crushes on you, and his wolf side's all over you, but his human side is being a huge baby about it?"

Lydia laughed at him, long and loud. Stiles rolled his eyes and frowned in response. 

"I'm not kidding. I'm really not sure what to do."

"Stiles, if I was Derek I'd be looking for a serious crime to stumble into so witness protection would give me a new name and whisk me off to the other side of the country. That wolf shit was _embarrassing_. Big cautionary tale for me -- I never want to see what Jackson's wolf side looks like off a leash."

"That's not advice," Stiles pointed out. He did not whine. He didn't. 

"Give him time. Let him come to you, dummy. Make yourself irresistible from afar."

"Have you _met_ me? I'm not exactly great at giving people space," Stiles argued immediately. He didn't even touch on how hopeless a goal "irresistible" was for him.

"Tough luck, kid." Lydia picked at her nails, looking bored. "That's all I've got for you. I have homework to get to so I gotta go."

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed with no responses of merit from Derek, which, if he got any, consisted of occasional noncommittal one-syllables like "no" and "ugh". Scott alternated between not wanting to hear about it and scolding him for actually pursuing his "crazy, reckless, self-destructive" plan. Lydia laughed at his struggles and sometimes offered helpful advice. Derek was so adamant about ignoring him that Stiles actually started to forget about it and move on with his life. Which, as it turned out, was foolish and short-lived. 

It was a lazy Saturday night and Stiles was doing what seventeen year old boys do on lazy Saturday nights when their best friends are out on dates and ditching them. He was thinking about not Derek (of course) when his dad knocked on his door. Stiles held in a frustrated groan as he quickly tucked himself back into his pants and tried to arrange his clothes in an unsuspicious way. "What?" Stiles asked, trying to keep his irritation out of his tone. 

"You have a visitor." 

"What? Is it Scott?" 

"No." His dad said it like he was already at the end of a long argument with Stiles. 

"Who is it?"

"Just come."

Stiles wrenched the door open to the sight of his father's accusatory one-eyebrow raise. At his heels was a black wolf, sitting and staring at him with its garnet eyes.

"Oh no," Stiles sighed. 

"Look who showed up on our doorstep and scratched at the door until I let him in," his dad said, raising both eyebrows and putting his hands on his hips. 

"Right. I'll call Danny and tell him. At least let the poor guy stay the night; he obviously missed me," Stiles pleaded. 

"This is not turning into another week-long adventure, right?"

"No. No, absolutely not," Stiles said, looking pointedly at the wolf's garnet eyes. The wolf tilted its head at Stiles's attention. "This is not becoming a regular thing, I promise you, Dad."

"Ok. Goodnight, kid." His dad touched him lightly on the shoulder before he left Stiles with the wolf. Stiles sighed and immediately knelt next to the wolf when his dad was safely out of sight. The wolf licked his face and neck as Stiles buried his nose in its thick coat. 

"I actually missed you, buddy. Derek's been kind of a dick," Stiles breathed into his coat. The wolf was content to sit like that with him letting Stiles take giant lung fulls of its clean smell until Stiles was ready to get back to his feet.  "I wish you could talk, Shadow. I have a feeling we could work this out between the two of us. I have no idea what the deal is with Derek," Stiles said absently, leading the wolf into his room. The wolf jumped up on his bed like he owned it and circled a few times before lying down for sleep. Stiles swallowed guiltily, about to protest given what he was just doing and what it must smell like on the bed, but he gave up before he even started -- he knew from experience that Shadow was not moving, no matter what he did. 

Stiles turned the lights off and climbed in after him. He wedged his legs in against the familiar, warm weight taking up most of his bed and closed his eyes. 

"Goodnight, buddy."

 

* * *

 

Stiles woke up to a foreign sight: a large expanse of back muscles about five inches from his face. He tried not to panic, but he did whisper, "Holy fuck." 

The wall of muscle in front of him stirred in response, and a large, equally strong arm stretched out above his head before the view shifted and he found himself staring at a chest that looked like it escaped from an Abercrombie add. 

"Oh, holy _fuck_ ," Stiles's mouth repeated without Stiles's permission. When Stiles inched his eyes up to check, yeah, Derek was already awake, and _looking at him_. 

"So... hey," Stiles laughed nervously, suddenly self conscious about his decidedly unsexy star wars t-shirt and the way he was gripping the covers to  his chest protectively. 

Derek just stared at him, seemingly studying his face, which Stiles could guess looked utterly terrified. "Derek, this is a few steps ahead in my plan," Stiles said shakily, his eyes drifting down to Derek's unbelievable chest without his permission. "Not that I'm really complaining. More, confused? Why aren't you running away?" Stiles asked. 

"I don't have pants," Derek said simply. Stiles swallowed as he felt a surge of blood travel south. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were in the narrow bed.

"Really." Stiles winced at how squeaky he sounded. "Didn't stop you the last time."

"You weren't awake." Derek frowned like this should be obvious to Stiles. 

"Great!" Stiles squeaked before clearing his throat and begging his heart rate to slow down. "This isn't how I was imagining I would get you to talk, but you're here, and apparently trapped, so let's do this."

"You think I'm trapped?" Derek lifted one eyebrow and Stiles suddenly really, really didn't want to test that theory. 

"Anyway." Stiles cleared his throat again and forced himself to meet Derek's intimidating eyes. Getting to know Shadow had diminished some of Derek's dark clout, but definitely not all. "This isn't working. We need to figure this out."

Derek was quiet for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes briefly and said, somewhat resigned, "You're right."

"I am?" Stiles blurted in surprise. "I am," he said more confidently after Derek opened his eyes to a dry look. "Right. Ok. First off, I'm pissed at you -- do you know how fucking insulting it is that you avoided me to the point that your wolf had to _take over your body_ to get you to look at me? Your embarrassment over Shadow aside, I'm not _that_ unattractive. I'd like to think I'm not that annoying, though that point is admittedly up for debate among several people --"

"Stiles." Derek cut him off, looking put upon. "It's not you, it's me."

Stiles was stunned into silence, but only briefly. "Oh, you did _not_ just--"

"Stiles!" Derek cut him off once more, this time with a growl. "I don't... _do_... relationships. Of any kind. With anyone."

Stiles fish gaped at him as he processed the absurdity of that statement and gathered his arguments in a list in his head. 

"Totally untrue. You have relationships within your pack," Stiles pointed out with some heat. "That's, like, five, six people right there."

"Barely," Derek added. "I maintain what I need to with them. I'm not close to anyone."

"Wow," Stiles could feel his heart sink as the enormity of Derek's issues settled on his chest like a weight. "That's... that's really sad. You should stop doing that on purpose. People want to get to know you, Derek."

Derek let his grey-green eyes travel over Stiles's face.

"It's better for them, believe me."

"What the hell does that mean?" Stiles said, deeply frustrated now. "You're making that decision for them before they even have a chance to decide for themselves."

"Getting close to me means death and pain, without exception," Derek shook his head. Stiles realized that Derek was talking about his family, his sister, even his uncle. "I'm not going to do that to anyone else. The problem is that the wolf doesn't get that."

"Derek," Stiles said softly, wanting to reach out and touch the rough stubble of his jaw. "Scott's my best friend. I'm already knee-deep in danger. You aren't adding or subtracting from that."

Derek almost recoiled, his eyebrows twisting up in genuine distress. "It's not the same."

"It is." Stiles insisted, trying to be gentle. He could understand not wanting to hurt the people you loved. He could completely understand that. "I run with wolves for life already. You're just punishing yourself unnecessarily and putting all the blame for what happened to the people you loved on yourself. _Peter_ killed Laura. _Kate_ killed your family. Ok, yeah, you killed Peter, but you had to -- that wasn't really a choice," Stiles reasoned. "No one can live the way you want to force yourself to live. We all need someone."

"No." Derek shook his head. His words were fiercer this time. "I won't, Stiles. I can't."

"Derek," Stiles leaned closer, surprising himself by doing what he was thinking and stroking Derek's face. Derek stilled at the touch, his eyes going wide and terrified. Stiles marveled that his stubble was even scratchier than he'd imagined.

Derek closed his eyes and Stiles thought he might have leaned into his touch. Stiles kept his hand on Derek's cheek, soothing along his skin and stubble. Occasionally he let himself stray into that dark mane of spiky hair, and it was softer than Shadow's by a long shot but still had some of that wolf coarseness. The action definitely felt familiar and Stiles felt himself wondering for the millionth time exactly what Derek and his wolf were to each other.

"Shadow's not going to let you emotionally cripple yourself, so you might as well accept that." Stiles smiled now, feeling some of the sadness of their conversation settle between them. 

"You're supposed to hate me." Derek's lower lip trembled, his eyes still closed. His voice was steady, though, if soft. "I wanted you to hate me."

"You want everyone to hate you. I don't know what to tell you, big guy," Stiles quirked a smile. 

To Stiles's great surprise, Derek stayed like that, letting Stiles effectively pet him until Stiles was fairly sure he fell back asleep. Stiles was no wolf, but Derek's breathing seemed even and his eyes jerked a little under his eyelids, which were both pretty telling signs.

Stiles got up and rooted around in his clothes for his biggest sized things. He found a pair of pants that were somewhat baggy on him and a shirt that he liked to sleep in because it was so roomy. He set it at the end of the bed and hoped Derek would find it if he woke up. In the meantime, he was pretty worried about his dad walking in on the naked dude sleeping in his bed, but he pushed that down since he couldn't bear to wake Derek up after that vulnerable conversation. 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles went down to breakfast with his dad, doing his best to act normal and not like there was a naked 20-something year old in his bed upstairs. He thought he did a pretty good job of it until his dad stopped him as he took his plate from the table.

"You talked to Danny, right?"

"Right," Stiles agreed. 

"That... dog... is going to be gone when I get home from work, right?" his dad's hesitance at "dog" would have made Stiles smile if he wasn't dead nervous about his dad somehow, magically, guessing the truth. 

"You got it."

"I mean it, Stiles. We are not keeping that thing."

"No arguments here, dad!" Stiles was keeping Shadow if his plan worked out, but not in the way his dad would likely ever know about. He quickly cleaned his dish off and scurried back upstairs. 

Derek surprised him once again by not disappearing; he was sitting, fully clothed (admittedly, to Stiles's disappointment) at Stiles's desk, looking through a book on werewolves Stiles had ordered online. Stiles's sleeping shirt only looked a little bit ridiculous stretched over Derek's powerful upper body.

"This is actually somewhat accurate." Derek frowned as he turned a page. 

"The author's rumored to be one," Stiles said, willing himself to chill the fuck out and act cool. He edged his way across the room, his attitude one of approaching a skiddish animal that might bolt at any second. He sat at the edge of his recently made bed -- which was kind of a cute little trivia to learn about Derek, that he liked to keep things clean. 

"So. Any date ideas?" Stiles felt very brave by bringing it up. Derek dropped the book to his lap slowly and fixed him with his pale grey-green eyes. His fingers drummed softly over the hard cover of the book. 

"I liked hiking with you," it seemed to cost Derek something to say that aloud. Stiles almost jumped at the actual, no-bullshit response. He couldn't help grinning widely. 

"Hiking it is."

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some well deserved fluff <3.

_I knew that look dear_  
_Eyes always seeking_  
_Was there in someone_  
_That dug long ago_  
_So I will not ask you_  
_Why you were creeping_  
_In some sad way I already know_  
  
_I will not ask you where you came from_  
_I will not ask and neither should you_  
  
_Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips_  
_We should just kiss like real people do_

-Hozier, Like Real People Do

 

 This was it; this was how Stiles Stilinski died. In retrospect, he thought it might be grander or at least bloodier, considering the crowd he ran with. But, no, it was mundane and commonplace: he died at the top of a mountain from exhaustion and critically blistered feet. 

"You suck," Stiles gasped out. His feet started hurting around mile number two, and they were running up on mile seven now, most of which had been uphill. "By the way, I didn't accidentally sign up to train for the navy seals, right? Because I don't remember signing any paperwork saying I was prepared to push every physical limit possible before this trip."

"Stop being a baby, Stiles. We're almost there. If you can talk, you can walk," Derek called back at him from at least twenty feet ahead. 

"This is not a date," Stiles complained for what felt like the fortieth time. "If it were, I wouldn't be sweating out of places I didn't even know could sweat, you wouldn't be way ahead of me the whole time, and I wouldn't be hoping I'd pass out just so we could take a break."

Derek said something, but it was too quiet for Stiles to hear so he yelled, "What?" Derek actually turned his head to smirk back at him and Stiles knew, without knowing how or why, that Derek had made a dirty joke. 

"Oh my god," Stiles mumbled, thinking back over his words. "I hope this isn't what sex is going to be like."

This time Derek turned completely around, looking energetic and fit with barely a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and all-out grinned at him. Stiles had never seen Derek grin like that, but he'd mostly seen Derek in life-threatening situations so that didn't actually say much. It was nice. Stiles made a mental note that he wanted to get that smile out of Derek more often. 

"Also, taking breaks isn't for 'babies', it's for normal human beings. You could stand to hang around them more often since you obviously don't know their limits, Superman."  Stiles stared at the ground, wiping yet another round of sweat drops from his forehead with his forearm. He was so focused on his feet that he almost ran into Derek, who finally, _finally_ stopped. 

"Oh thank god," Stiles cried out, bending to rest on his knees. "I'm starting to seriously doubt my commitment to you werewolves and your stupid super strength." 

"Look," Derek nudged him with his elbow. 

"All I want to see right now is a blanket with food on it," Stiles panted, but he obligingly lifted his head. It was gorgeous; transparent clouds of condensation drifted over the vast, brilliant green crevices of the mountains. They were miles away from any human activity, so before them was pure wilderness. About a mile down and ahead of them Stiles could see the waterfall that Derek wanted to hike to tomorrow. "Yeah, this is cool. You were right," Stiles mused, smiling in awe of the scenery. 

Derek stood immobile next to him. When Stiles checked on him he looked as peaceful as he'd ever seen him. 

Stiles stood there quietly trying to catch his breath and waited for Derek to look his fill. Only when Derek reached around to pull off his backpack did Stiles reach into his to pull out the curry cashews he'd been thinking about since the beginning of their hike. 

Stiles was busy stuffing a whole fist of cashews in his mouth as Derek took the time to actually unroll their picnic blanket and set up the food they'd brought. Stiles watched as Derek arranged the plastic containers with care and opened each. 

"This looks amazing," Stiles said around his cashews. Derek looked up at him briefly, his mouth quirking. He'd packed a whole bunch of things that could survive the journey and lack of a refrigerator, one of them the apples he was currently cutting into slices for them. 

"I have to make a fire so we can cook the pasta."

"As long as you don't expect me to help," Stiles agreed, flopping down on his back on the blanket and relishing the feeling of not moving. 

"No," Derek sounded like he was smiling, but Stiles didn't want to open his eyes to check. "I'll take care of this part. You can rest now."

"That's what I like to hear," Stiles mumbled, stretching his arms above his head and then loosing his feet from the confines of his sweaty shoes. He prayed his feet didn't stink, especially given Mr. Super Nose, and luckily his human nose didn't smell anything. 

Derek disappeared into the woods and Stiles looked around at the little sunny spot of flat area by the trail they claimed for their own. It was getting later in the day -- his phone told him it was four in the afternoon. He wondered what Derek had in mind for after they ate dinner. 

Stiles fell asleep waiting for Derek to come back, and when he woke up Derek was almost done cooking their pasta over a decent little fire. 

"Points for being handy in a zombie apocalypse," Stiles yawned. 

"Points?"

"Yeah, you know," Stiles moved to sit closer to the fire and, visa vi, Derek. "Like, points in your favor. Points in the general scope of life for succeeding at something."

"Oh." Derek stirred the pasta. "You get points for not snoring."

"I do?" Stiles asked, amused.

"I can't sleep around people who snore. I'm glad you don't. I don't want to have to kill you in the night."

"Jesus. Are we sleeping in the same tent?"

"Is that a problem?" Derek sounded tense. 

"No," Stiles swallowed, knowing he couldn't lie or Derek would know. "I'm just surprised that this is what you wanted to do."

"The smell of you nearby makes it easier for me to sleep," Derek said matter-of-fact, as though he'd told Stiles he liked red hats. Stiles felt a shiver run through him and he was sure Derek heard his heart speed up. Stiles elected to change the subject quickly. 

"Do you do this a lot? Backpacking?" 

"Not anymore. I don't like being out of reach of the pack, in case there's an emergency. But this is just an overnight trip."

"You do this for longer than a few days?" 

"I used to come out with my family on trips that would take two weeks or more."

"Whoah," Stiles wondered. That was one of the only things Derek had ever said about his family. "That sounds intense."

Derek shrugged. "It was fun."

"I bet the pack would like it," Stiles suggested, watching Derek strain the pasta. "You should take them on a trip."

Derek was silent as he added the spices and sauce, but Stiles thought his silence might be due to considering the idea.

"Eat." Derek placed Stiles's prepared meal in his lap.

"This is delicious," Stiles complimented enthusiastically.

Derek sat mostly silently while he ate his food. Stiles chattered about whatever popped into his head, undeterred by Derek's one word responses and relative muteness. Stiles eventually ate himself into a veritable coma and had no choice but to sit on the ground holding his stomach while Derek put up the tent for them. Somehow they'd already passed several hours and the sun was low in the sky, hidden by the mountain range but not quite low enough for the sky to dim. 

Derek made nice work of the tent. It was fully functional in under ten minutes and Derek had already laid the sleeping bags out for Stiles to curl up in when Stiles got back from his bathroom break. 

"I'm beat," Stiles yawned and stretched inside the sleeping bag. 

"It's only seven," Derek responded from somewhere above him. 

"I have a feeling I'm going to need the extra four hours of sleep to get through whatever the hell you have planned from tomorrow."

"You didn't enjoy today?" Derek sounded so... so _something_ that Stiles opened his eyes to read his face. Derek was standing right next to him, looking down at him like he was expecting Stiles to do or say something more than just passing out. 

Stiles, somewhat reluctantly, rose into a sitting position, still wrapped up in his sleeping bag. "I liked it. I think you could stand to be more understanding of the human experience, but I liked spending time with you."

"You can't improve your stamina if you take too many breaks." Derek scowled. 

"I'm not here to improve my stamina. I'm not here to _train_ , Derek. I'm here to get to know you," Stiles said, maybe too harshly because Derek's frown deepened dramatically. 

To Stiles's surprise, though, Derek sat down on top of his sleeping bag and rested his hands on his knees. "Ok."

"Really?"

"I might have pushed you too much today. I'll try to be... easier tomorrow."

"That's the spirit," Stiles cheered, sinking back into a sleeping position. "That's awesome, Derek. Good progress." Stiles closed his eyes and let the tiredness seep into his limbs in preparation for sleep. 

"You talk a lot, but not about yourself." 

Stiles opened his eyes again. Derek was studying him with an eerie sort of concentration.

"I could say the same about you, big guy. Well, the second part, not the first."

Derek folded his arms over his knees and looked down at the ground. "Tell me something personal."

Stiles thought about the request. "I'm guessing you're thinking something deeper than my ADD?" When Derek nodded, Stiles fell silent. "Uh, my mom passed away when I was in elementary school."

Derek nodded again, quiet. 

"And I like how you smell, too," Stiles added, even though he didn't want to. It was something he wanted to say but was also deeply afraid to hear coming out of his own mouth. 

Derek sat very still for a long time, his eyes caught on Stiles. Stiles could hear his own fast heartbeat in his ears. He wondered if he should try to make a joke out of it, or try to take it back, but he didn't want to. He was ok with the uncomfortable silence as long as Derek was. 

"I'm going for a run before bed." Derek announced into the extreme tension gathering in the tent. 

"You're going to leave me here without protection," Stiles accused. 

"You'll be fine. I won't go far."

"You don't have to. I won't talk about your smell anymore." Stiles threw an arm over his face, the sting of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

"You can."

"Can what?"

"Talk about it. I like it. But I need to get out some energy before I can sleep; hiking is too slow with you." Derek stepped out and zipped the tent back up, leaving Stiles to replay that over in his head. 

 

* * *

 

Stiles drifted to sleep but woke up when Derek crawled into the tent later, well after dark. 

"Hey. I'm cold. Did you bring any other blankets?" Stiles chattered. "Like, what the hell? It's freaking California. It's not supposed to get this cold."

"We're higher up than you're used to," Derek's voice came from the dark. "Move over."

"What?" Stiles barely managed before Derek manhandled him into a corner of his sleeping bag. He heard the zipper and then Derek's legs and hips and body were with him in his bag. "Oh my god," Stiles yelped without thinking. 

"I didn't bring any other blankets," Derek explained stiffly right next to his ear. 

"This is so Brokeback Mountain," Stiles muttered, rearranging himself so he wasn't quite so squished.

"What?"

"I- nothing. Nothing at all." In Derek's defense, Stiles was warmer; perfect temperature, actually.

"Is this ok?" Derek asked, sounding supremely uncomfortable.

"It's great," Stiles sighed. Though, now that they were there he wasn't sure what he was allowed -- was this permission to cuddle? Could Stiles turn and throw a leg over Derek's legs to try to get more comfortable? Or was he expected to lie stiffly in his own tiny space while Derek squished as far as possible to the other side of the sleeping bag like what they were currently doing?

To hell with it. Derek opened this can of worms, Stiles was making the best of it. 

"C'mere," Stiles groaned and twisted, bumping and moving Derek in the process. He blindly reached until he found what felt like Derek's side, where he anchored and pulled himself closer. He heard Derek's breath speed up a few inches above his forehead as their chests came into contact and their knees touched. Stiles forcefully slotted one leg in between Derek's legs, pressing his freezing toes against Derek's much warmer ankles. Derek gasped at the contact. 

"Told you I was cold," Stiles grinned to himself. 

"Understatement," Derek sounded grumpy about it, but not too much. Stiles felt Derek's arm come up to rest across his side, mirroring Stiles's own position. Stiles gripped the shirt over Derek's lower back. 

"This is much better," Stiles sighed. For the first time in hours he was truly comfortable. He could feel sleep coming up on him quickly. "Dude, your wolf is, like, the cuddliest little shit ever. You should get more in touch with that. I think you've deprived him for way too long -- he's too much to handle, and you're not enough." 

Stiles couldn't tell if the vibrations in Derek's chest were due to laughter or growling.

 "We used to... with my family. We all slept together like this on backpacking trips."

Stiles's breath caught at the admission. Derek sounded so wistful. Stiles patted his back in what he hoped was a comforting way, pressing a little closer in the confined space.  

 

* * *

 

Morning was nice. 

Derek lost some of his stiffness over the course of the night, burying his nose in Stiles's hair and pulling Stiles into an all-out cuddle, legs and limbs completely tangled together. When Stiles woke up it was to the smell of Derek's skin against his nose and the feel of warm arms surrounding him. He'd never woken up feeling so safe, especially in the middle of nowhere. 

Stiles didn't move for a long time, just enjoying this unconscious version of Derek which was obviously more comfortable around Stiles than the conscious one. Eventually, though, nature called and Stiles was forced to move, which predictably woke Derek up. 

"Oh." Derek sounded shocked as he took in their positions. Stiles grinned at him. 

"Mornin' partner." 

"Why are saying it like that?"

"It's a reference to a movie you don't know. Don't worry about it." Stiles patted Derek's cheek. Derek scowled. 

"Why are you referencing it if you know I don't know it?"

"For my own twisted amusement, big guy." Stiles let his hands drift into Derek's hair again, liking the feel of it. Derek was stiffening under his newfound awareness of their situation, which Stiles hated. "Would you please relax? This was nice. Don't ruin it."

Derek stopped his slow journey of pulling away from Stiles and frowned at him. Stiles was tempted to lean in and kiss that stupid frown, but decided against it since he didn't want his first kiss to be so one-sided. 

"I gotta pee. Do you have breakfast covered?" Stiles asked, yawning a little.

"Yes."

Stiles nodded and started the uncomfortable process of squeezing himself out of the crammed sleeping bag. Derek touched his side seemingly for no reason as Stiles moved to get out. Stiles only figured it out as an aborted effort to stop him as he was trudging deeper into the woods with a roll of toilet paper in one hand.

Derek showed him how to light a fire with only rocks and dried grass, which Stiles thought was just a thing that happened in movies, and they cooked breakfast together. Well, Derek cooked and Stiles had one-sided conversations with him. It was slightly more comfortable than yesterday, though, and Stiles was starting to figure out what Derek found funny. His sense of humor was surprisingly dirty.

"Like. He just spits on him once and that was supposed to be believable lube." Stiles said to another rumble of laughter from Derek. "We should watch it sometime. It's equal parts sad and hilarious, kind of like our own lives. Ok, it's mostly sad, but it's good. I liked it."

Derek nodded quietly, a smile still on his lips. Stiles realized that he loved Derek's smile. He loved it even more when he was the cause for it. Stiles shifted closer, moving obviously from one rock to the rock closest to Derek. Derek looked at him briefly and and went back to his cooking. 

"These are called hobo pies. I've had these before," Stiles commented, peering over the fire as a pretext for bumping shoulders with Derek.  

"I know what they're called, Stiles. I'm the one making them." Derek leaned in a little bit to the contact. 

They ate in companionable quiet sitting shoulder to shoulder. Derek got up as soon as they finished to clean up their area and pack up the tent. The fire, the warm food in his stomach, and the clean air of the mountains all mixed together into contentment in Stiles's chest. 

Once they were packed, Derek led the way down a side trail mostly overgrown with brush until they came up on the waterfall Stiles caught a glimpse of the day before. It was tall, white water cascading down and bouncing off ledges along the way. The pool at the bottom was clear and clean looking, and Stiles immediately tore off his shoes and socks to wade into it. 

Derek watched him at first, setting his backpack on the ground and crossing his arms in front of his chest. When Stiles called for him Derek pulled off his shirt and pants before Stiles could react and ran at him like he was on the attack. Stiles yelped loudly as Derek tackled him into the cold water. Stiles came up sputtering and pissed only to have Derek tackle him almost immediately again, this time pulling him up and out of the water and against the same chest Stiles was starting to realize he had an obsession with. Stiles put both hands unsteadily against Derek's shoulders, uncertain what Derek was doing, and gaped down at him as Derek lifted him up and bodily threw him at least five feet away. Stiles, totally misinterpreting the action as romantic rather than another shit head move, wasn't any more ready to hit the water the second time as he was the first.

"Asshole," Stiles accused, spitting water from his mouth. Derek grinned at him, wading in deeper and farther away from Stiles. "Now my clothes are wet and we still have to hike eight miles. Get back here so I can kill you."

"You can try," Derek taunted, causing Stiles to swim messily after him. Stiles chased him endlessly around the pool and Derek always seemed to have the advantage, disappearing for minutes at a time only to pop up right behind him and toss him five or ten feet in the air. Stiles tried a few tactics to fight back, but it wasn't until he hooked his legs around Derek's hips and locked his arms around his neck that he surprised Derek to such a degree that he forgot about throwing him. It left them staring at each other with only a few inches between them -- Stiles tensed for a fight, and Derek's expression quickly softening into a look Stiles hadn't seen directed at him before. 

It didn't take much for Derek to lean in and kiss Stiles. It tasted like the water they were swimming around in, which was thankfully as clean as it looked. Stiles remembered to close his eyes, but his brain short circuited for the rest of the experience, his lips taking over like they knew what to do. Derek pulled him in closer, and Stiles's defensive stance easily translated into an intimate embrace as soon as Stiles relaxed into it. Derek's hands skimmed easily along Stiles's back, one anchoring on his thigh and the other at his shoulder as Derek pulled back out of the kiss. 

Stiles wanted more almost as soon as it was over, but as he leaned in for another taste of Derek's lips he found himself flying back over the water. Stiles emerged more pissed off than ever, shouting, "I'm _really_ going to kill you now," to the sound of Derek's deep-throated laughter.  

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles had to give Derek credit -- he went easier on him on the way down, just like he said. After he finished tossing Stiles around in the pool, he produced a spare set of dry clothes that fit Stiles somewhat. He even hiked next to Stiles for most of the way down rather than ahead of him. So, Stiles put credit where credit was due. 

Stiles was 17 and kissing was new so he was pretty much down for trying it again at any point and tried to give Derek ample opportunity to do so (hey Derek, do I have something on my mouth? Oh? You sure?), but no go. It seemed the kissing was a one-time thing for this trip, which had Stiles near to tears with frustration. Even his own attempts at macking were met with subtle avoidance. 

But it was still better than the day before; Stiles reached the bottom a little sore (especially his feet), but in no shape comparative to the day before. Derek even gave Stiles free reign over the radio for the drive back, which put Stiles in a supremely good mood by the time they got home. 

_Eagle has landed. Operation Sneaky Date coming to a close. Over._

**_Stiles, are u 4 real_ **

_Status update requested. Over._

**_Your dad doesn't suspect. every time he called ur phone I answered and said u were in the shower or smthing_ **

_Ur the best Scott. Never change. You didn't say over. Over._

**_..._ **

**_We need to talk later_ **

**_Over_ **

Stiles squinted at his screen, wondering at the tone of that text. Usually when Scott "needed to talk" to him it wasn't a good thing, but Stiles doubted he would tell him if he asked over text what it was about. He replied with a quick  _when i get home, skype?_ and then tucked his phone away with a queasy feeling. 

Derek dropped him a block from Scott's, where his jeep was parked. Stiles was quickly realizing that PDA wasn't in Derek's programming, so he mumbled something about a good time, smiled broadly, and jumped from the car before the awkward could settle in.

Derek watched him climb into his jeep before he took off a little too fast down the street. Stiles let a breath go that he'd been holding all weekend, one of nerves and fear and general insecurity. It was, for the most part, his first real date. When Stiles ran over it in his mind, it wasn't too bad. The good outweighed the bad by a fair margin. 

Stiles grinned, did a little celebratory dance for himself, and blared the radio the whole way home. 

Unfortunately, the talk Scott was waiting to have with him was even worse than the one he'd worried might be in store. Stiles skyped him almost immediately after talking to his dad and reassuring him that, yes, he was at Scott's house, and yes, he was sorry for forgetting to call him back about a million times over the course of the weekend.

Scott's face popped up in the screen and almost immediately Stiles sobered. Scott was pretty happy-go-lucky as teenage boys went, but he was solemn now.

"What, what's wrong? Is it Allison?" It was always Allison, so that was Stiles's best guess.

"No, she's fine. We're fine." Thank god, the two had more ups and downs than a roller coaster. "It's you I'm worried about, Stiles."

Stiles blinked at the screen a few times. Scott was way too serious about whatever it was, especially considering that Stiles wasn't dying on a veterinarian's table like Scott seemed to be acting like.

"Dude, what? I'm fine. Derek didn't kill me or anything -- he was actually really great. And helpful. It was kinda weird."

"Derek," Scott said darkly, scowling at the screen. "Stiles, you know I want the best for you. Please believe me when I say I have a bad feeling about this."

Stiles swallowed hard. Ah. That's where Scott was going with his doom-and-gloom-prediction expression. 

"Ok, you know what? Just say it. Get it all out there on the table. Give me the worst you've got," Stiles sighed. He was getting real tired of Scott's vague grumpiness and refusal to talk about Derek unless he was passive aggressively dropping snide comments. 

"Fine. I will," Scott's throat moved as he swallowed and Stiles could already feel that whatever was going to come out of his mouth was going to hurt bad because Scott already looked guilty. "I think you're doing this for the wrong reasons, Stiles. Really bad reasons."

"Like what?" Stiles scoffed. 

"The first thing you said to me about this was somewhere along the lines of 'is it so bad that someone wants to date me'. That's it, Stiles! That's the problem! You don't like _Derek._ You like that _he likes you_. The sad part is, he doesn't even like you; his wolf does."

Stiles ground his teeth together because yeah, he'd been right -- that fucking hurt. 

"Even now you're acting all surprised that he was actually treating you like a normal human being. How messed up is that, Stiles? The bar shouldn't be so low, and you shouldn't set it down there for yourself. What the hell happened to Lydia? It seems like you forgot about her over night at the first show of interest from someone, anyone. You're just... you're just desperate." Two seconds after he said it Scott looked stricken at his own words. 

Stiles was about ready to shut Skype off and leave Scott to his guilt over being a shitty friend like he deserved, but years of friendship kept his patience in line. Plus, he had something important to say about this that Scott was missing and that he'd only recently figured out on his trip with Derek. 

"You're wrong about something, Scott." Stiles couldn't say he was wrong about everything -- part of the reason he'd agreed to this was because Shadow was such a persistent little prick about it, but Stiles didn't think that was all that uncommon or as insidious as Scott was making it out to be. "Derek and his wolf aren't different entities fighting for control over one body. Derek is the wolf, and the wolf is Derek. Think about your own wolf side-- it's not a different person living in your body, it's another part of you. They were born as one, they grew as one, and the only reason they seem different is because of Derek's truckload of issues. But Derek..." And it took all of Stiles's courage and self-esteem to admit it to himself, let alone to Scott. "Derek has major feelings. For me. And we both know that he's not a bad person, even if he likes to pretend he is. Just because my story doesn't look like a Disney fairytale like yours doesn't make it any less real or valid."

Scott's seeming permafrown deepened on his face and ironically reminded Stiles of Derek.

"I had a great time this weekend, thanks for asking -- and yeah, for the record, I do like him. A lot. I figured that out too. Sometimes when you give people a chance they can surprise you. So, thanks for covering for us, I guess." Stiles was torn between being pissed and actually wanting to express his gratitude for Scott helping him with the elaborate ruse even when he felt like this. It came out somehow both sarcastic and earnest.

"Well that's the last time, Stiles. I mean it. Find a different ruse to visit your 24-year-old accused murderer boyfriend that your dad would arrest on sight if he ever met him. Oh yeah, I can definitely see this working out."

Stiles scowled at the screen because that was a low blow if he ever heard one, especially for Scott, who was usually the embodiment of a cuddly puppy.

"After all the shit I've walked through for you with Allison, all the Romeo and Juliet levels of impossibility... I was there for you the whole time. I'm disappointed you can't do the same for me." Stiles closed his laptop vehemently, only hissing after the fact when he realized he may have been too rough on the machinery.  

Well... this obviously wasn't going to be fun on multiple levels. 

 

* * *

  

It didn't surprise Stiles that Derek didn't contact him in the following week, and for all intents and purposes actually seemed to be avoiding him again; it did hurt more than he expected it to. They'd had _moments_ (some _great_ moments by Stiles's estimation) since the last time Derek actively avoided him, and Stiles thought he'd hacked through some of the tangle of Derek's wall of issues. Apparently, however, not enough to really count. 

Stiles went to school, glared at Scott occasionally, and even saw Derek at a pack meeting. Stiles didn't try to talk to him, though. He was admittedly tired of being the only one to make a (conscious) move, and maybe a lot affected by Scott's words even though he knew in his gut that Shadow and Derek were the same, and therefore, Derek had the same feelings Shadow did. 

Didn't make Derek's shitty attitude of avoidance feel any better. 

Derek didn't even look at Stiles during the pack meeting other than to formally acknowledge that his wolf outbreak had ended and he was grateful to them for their help and also predictably pissed off about various things they'd done when they weren't sure he was paying attention. Stiles had warned Isaac in particular that the wolf knew more than it let on, but no one listened to him. 

"We get back to training. No more breaks." He scowled at them all (except for Stiles) and Stiles felt compulsively drawn to point out that Derek's wolfing out wasn't exactly what he'd classify as a "break". "Starting this weekend I want everyone here and ready to hurt. 9 AM." 

"That's the alpha we know and love," Erica muttered under her breath sarcastically. Derek arched an eyebrow at her and she quieted immediately. 

Stiles filtered out silently with the rest of the grumbling pack, still not talking to Scott. Really, it was an overload of all the things he sucked at: not talking to Scott, staying away from Derek, feeling shitty in general and not doing anything about it.

Stiles felt eyes on the back of his neck as he closed the door behind him. 

 

* * *

 

Of all the things Stiles sucked at, leaving things alone like he probably should was at the top. It was for that reason he showed up at Derek's loft, against even _his own_ judgement, on a Friday night with pizza in hand and grinned in the face of the barrier that was Derek with his arms crossed in front of the door.

Stiles only waited about ten seconds until he got too uncomfortable. 

"Hi Stiles. You rock and I suck for never calling or talking to you or even looking at you at the pack meeting. Please come in and sit and eat this food you've generously provided because if you don't I might turn into a wolf again in a few days and come running back to you in the middle of the night. Thank you, and also you're always right." And that's really what Derek deserved for making him do all the talking.

Derek stared at him like he wasn't impressed, but Stiles won in the end -- Derek shifted and left just enough space for Stiles to slip in between him and the doorway.

"This is a nice place, by the way. I mean, it could use some personal touches, some decorative somethings. Throw pillows probably wouldn't really go with the decor, right? Hm," Stiles chattered nervously, looking around. "How about a giant spiderman poster right over there? I've got a spare in my room. The bookstore was just giving those out for free one day," _in exchange for money,_ Stiles finished in his head. 

"No," Derek said, arms still crossed over his chest as he watched Stiles settle in on the couch. "I like it like this."

"Like nobody lives here, you mean."

"I have the essentials," Derek shrugged. 

Stiles sighed. "Unclench for five seconds, would you? This TV works, right? I've seen Erica using it before."

"It works," Derek confirmed, settling next to Stiles on the couch, too far away for it to be intimate. Figured. Stiles blew a raspberry of frustration while he fussed with the remote.

"I might start to think you don't really like me if you keep doing this not talking or calling or sitting next to or trying to be around me thing," Stiles commented, trying for nonchalant as he settled on an old episode of Star Trek. "Oh, this is a good one."

"You already know..." Derek started softly, his voice trailing away. They both kept their eyes trained on the TV. "I don't want this, Stiles."

"Kind of too bad." Stiles shrugged, his heart sinking. He didn't expect much out of Derek to begin with, but reruns they'd already covered? "Look, I get that it's hard for you to let people in because you've lost a lot, but you've gotta give me something. Anything. I'm not going to keep reaching out if you're trying so hard to give me nothing back. I won't." Ok, Scott was right about some things at least.

"You know I care," Derek said quietly. "Too much, obviously."

Stiles blinked at that, settling back into the couch.

"Dude, why me? Why not Erica or Boyd or Isaac or literally anyone else?" Stiles tilted his head back to the sound of old school special effects from the TV. "Why'd Shadow pick me?"

"You're..." Derek hesitated, and Stiles could feel his eyes on him, if only briefly. "You're loyal to a fault. You're braver than you realize, yet still submissive when needed. You challenge me. You're clever." Derek shook his head with a sigh. "For an alpha... that's everything. Perfect."

Screw the TV, was this actually happening? Stiles stared at the side of Derek's head while Derek stared at his own hands in his lap. He briefly wondered if he'd hit his head and imagined that, or if he was just dreaming this whole thing because Stiles couldn't believe Derek would say that. Perfect? Really? _Stiles?_

"It wasn't... the wolf or me. We're the same, Stiles. I feel what it feels."

Stiles figured that out already, but it was nice to hear out loud that he'd been right and Derek did like him. Stiles didn't know why they _weren't_ making out right now if all of that was true -- oh wait, because Derek was a big commitment-phobe with no ability to reach out.

Still. 

Stiles went for it, falling across the couch in his eagerness to try to kiss Derek. Derek caught him without blinking, smirking a little at Stiles's awkwardness before Stiles lunged the few inches between their lips. Stiles overestimated the distance between them and ended up mashing their mouths together painfully. Derek absorbed it gracefully, with minimal wincing, and swiftly pulled him the rest of the way onto his lap to lessen the awkward angle. Stiles grimaced at the pain in his lips until Derek seemed to glaze past the obvious discomfort and kiss him back like he meant it. Like he might possibly have been waiting for it for as long as Stiles. 

Derek kissed him fiercely, his hands knotting in Stiles's shirt almost immediately, bunching the fabric at his shoulder blades and skimming down Stiles's bare skin. Stiles groaned in surprise, every inch of his body alive with instant electricity as Derek anchored on his hips and dragged him closer, parting Stiles's legs along his own hips. 

Stiles gasped as Derek dragged along his jawline to his throat, the stubble scratching at his skin and sending more jolts of electricity through him and down to his dick. Derek licked and sucked at the skin along his throat, seemingly fascinated, sucking bruises at the meeting of his neck and shoulder and pulling his shirt out of the way to go lower. _Hickeys, I'm going to have actual hickeys_ Stiles thought hysterically. Derek seemed to have a big problem with his shirt, actually, so Stiles mindlessly tugged it off. Derek got back to kissing his collarbone right away, his stubble dragging along Stiles's extra sensitive skin on his chest. 

Somewhere along the road of wading through the emotional bullshit, Stiles forgot Derek's epic hotness. And yes, it was epic. Stiles let his hands wander down hard muscle low enough to count his abs, feel the curvy indent of them against Derek's waist. He swallowed hard and Derek growled from where he was kissing closer to what Stiles guessed was his own nipple and, yes, nipple was the goal. Derek latched on and all the tongues and the biting and Stiles was sure, absolutely sure, he was going to pass out from how awesome an idea this turned out to be. 

But then Derek seemed to come back to reality, fingers traveling back to safe places -- Stiles's shoulders -- while he rested his forehead against Stiles's chest.

"What? Why're you stopping?" Stiles breathed, looking down to get a read on Derek and coming up with nothing but the top of his head. Derek breathed slowly against his skin, steadying. His hands were still and somehow comforting on Stiles's back.

"No, no, no, no, no," Stiles whispered, pulling Derek's face up. "Kissing. Kissing was good. No thinking. Just kissing." Derek's eyes looked stormy but they softened as Stiles pushed eagerly against him. Stiles bought himself about ten more seconds of kissing before Derek pulled away again, gently pushing Stiles back on his lap. "Dude, if you think I'm getting off, you're crazy," Stiles panted, digging his toes into the sides of the couch. 

Derek smiled gently, bemused, and Stiles realized he must have run his hands through Derek's hair because it was new levels of spikey and directionally challenged. 

"Stiles, I forced you into this," Derek sighed. 

"I just refused to get off your lap." Stiles rolled his eyes sky high. "You for real right now?"

"Not this." Derek looked between them pointedly. "Everything. This so-called relationship."

"What? So-called?" Stiles fumed. And, ugh, Stiles never realized how hard it was to think when rock hard and on someone's lap oh and that someone looked like _Derek_. Stiles barely managed to work through what Derek was saying. "Sniff me or whatever -- I want this. A lot. You might have to fight me over how much I want this."  
  
Derek shook his head when Stiles leaned in for more. He kept Stiles at bay with a hand on his chest. 

"You want sex."

"I want _you,_ " Stiles insisted. He bit his lip in frustration before admitting, "and sex." He was 17. That was pretty much a constant reality.

Derek's nostrils flared as he confirmed what Stiles was saying, but his expression settled into disbelief. Stiles breathed out slowly. It didn't help -- everything he said came out as a rush.

"You want me to convince you? I jerked off to the thought of you for months now, since before this all happened. I know what you like to order for Chinese food, ok? I memorized it when you ordered it that one time. Your nose does this little wrinkle thing when you laugh, so I keep trying to find ways to get you to laugh because it doesn't happen nearly enough. The best news I've had all year is that you turned into a wolf because you liked me, and that was back when I thought it was a weird werewolf glitch and you actually couldn't care less."

Derek gaped at him. Stiles glared back, totally done with defending himself against Scott and now Derek about something he was pretty damn sure about. 

"Don't you dare tell me I don't want this," Stiles finished lowly. "Don't."

Derek seemed to be out of excuses and out of restraint. He gripped Stiles's shoulders hard and then they were kissing again and Stiles had to wrap his legs around Derek's hips to keep from dangling awkwardly as Derek sat up from the couch and carried him to the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I'm evil? Next chapter will have more... stuff in it ;D.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite brain dead from my midterms, and this is probably full of errors, but I'm publishing it anyway because if I don't it will sit on my computer for another two weeks until my brain cells have had time to regrow. I apologize, I miscalculated on when I wrote my smut -- it was not this chapter T.T. I know... it's a horrible crime to promise smut and underdeliver, and I have no excuse but negligence. Thank you all for reading, and we will get there eventually!!! That is a promise I can fulfill (though I understand if I've lost the trust now).

Turns out, Derek was a lot more of a cuddler than Stiles could have predicted. When Derek got him on his bed he spent a good few minutes sniffing, nuzzling his neck, peppering Stiles with gruff, stubble-filled kisses, and slowly undressing him. Painfully slowly -- Stiles was inexperienced and about to burst, and Derek was treating him like he had all the time in the world. 

"Derek," Stiles groaned, tugging roughly at Derek's hair to pull his head up to meet Stiles's lips. Once Derek was there Stiles kind of forgot his rush again. Derek's lips were... well, Stiles could get used to slow make-out sessions. Well, maybe later. "Uh, I mean... we should. The main event should probably come before and not after the grand finale."

Derek smirked at him knowingly and Stiles gasped as he felt a hand drift tantalizingly close to his crotch, stroking the skin just along his hips and lower belly. 

"You're a virgin." It was a statement, not a question. Stiles nodded anyway, his cheeks heating up. Derek's eyes flicked down to Stiles's lips, studying him with an intensity that had Stiles squirming. "Ok. Just good to know what I'm working with." 

"Ok. Yes. Good. So can we... uh... move it along? Not that I'm not enjoying this, but seriously, you're insanely hot and I'm pretty sure I've got a time limit here."

Derek snorted at that, his eyes sparkling. 

"Not today." 

"We can take it slow second round, but right now I just --"

"We aren't having sex."

Stiles froze, blinked at Derek's amused expression. "What?"

"This is all for today." Derek shook his head, ducking in to deliver a well-placed kiss to Stiles's neck. Stiles shuddered under the feel of his lips before he remembered all the millions of objections he had to that statement. 

"Come on, just hand jobs! it would be so easy to get off --"

"No." Derek laughed against his neck. 

"Why not?" Stiles almost whined in frustration. 

"Because that's not how I want to do this," Derek said, as though it was the most reasonable explanation in the world. 

"How about how I want to do this," Stiles argued immediately. "Don't I get a say?"

"You do." Derek agreed. "But so do I."

"Well." Stiles floundered. "You better have a good reason," Stiles breathed out in a rush and let his head fall back to the bed, trying to soak up his excitement at finally, _finally_ having a willing partner for this business. 

"Do I need a reason?" Derek said, and Stiles felt him stiffen somewhat above him. Stiles opened his eyes quickly to the sight of Derek's expression cooling. 

"Oh, come on. I'm not saying -- I just want to know what you're thinking here, since we're obviously both 'up' for it." Stiles looked pointedly between them. "I didn't mean you couldn't say no. I meant, I hope it's not for something like you thinking you 'forced me into this'." 

"It's too fast," Derek said carefully, his eyes on Stiles's very naked chest. "Sex changes things."

Stiles couldn't much argue with that since he had absolutely zero experience as to how sex did or did not change things. But Stiles could see he wasn't changing Derek's mind, so he tried his best to make peace with the continuation of his virgin status, at least for today. 

"Fine." Stiles sighed, "But you have to answer a question for me then."

"No, I don't."

"Derek." Stiles grimaced at the ceiling. Derek smirked at him again before nuzzling next to his ear. 

"What is it?"

"What are we?" Stiles frowned, focusing on the feel of Derek at his neck. Derek kissed down to his shoulder lightly before lifting his head to look at Stiles. 

"We're..." he thought for a moment, "together."

"Together," Stiles repeated. 

"Yes."

"So, boyfriends or...?" Stiles ventured. 

Derek returned to nuzzling and what Stiles was pretty sure was smelling his neck. 

"If you want to call it that." 

"I do. I need a name for this... thing."

"Fine."

"Say it." Stiles grinned at the ceiling as Derek stiffened against him, this time for very different reasons. Derek lifted his head to glare at him, and Stiles's grin grew. "Dude, you need serious commitment conditioning. Did you know for PTSD therapy they make you think about your traumatic experiences over and over again until it doesn't scare you anymore? It's kind of like a Japanese shiatsu massage, where they dig in and it's really painful, but when they let go you feel better. We're going to shiatsu the commitment-phobia right out of you."

"I don't have a problem with commitment." 

"Really," Stiles said skeptically. 

"I--" Derek stopped, searching Stiles's eyes for a moment. "That's not the problem."

"What's the problem?"

"The exact opposite."

"You're _too_ committed?" Stiles squinted at him.

Derek looked confused himself, but he nodded. Stiles pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

"Of course. That's why you don't try to contact me. Ever," Stiles drawled sarcastically. 

"This is... difficult for me. But not for the reasons you think." 

"Then help me to understand." Stiles sighed heavily in frustration. "Christ, Derek, you think I can read your mind here? I can't. I need you to freaking talk to me, even if it's hard or uncomfortable or whatever."

"Let's just call it a day." Derek was getting up now, withdrawing his warmth and kisses and nuzzling from Stiles's body and suddenly Stiles regretted everything he said if it meant Derek pulling away from him. 

"Just talk to me," Stiles tried again, going for pleading rather than frustrated. "Please."

Derek crossed his arms over his chest, his expression blocked off. Stiles could tell he wasn't going to win this one, so he quickly got dressed and left.

 

* * *

 

"Stiles, I don't care." Lydia clarified for what felt like the fiftieth time as she sorted through her books at her locker. "Just blow him. Guys love that. Solves all problems."

"He's got this, like, embargo on sex going until god knows when. I don't know if you noticed, but Derek kind of sucks at communication." Stiles bounced on his heels and tried to keep his voice down in the busy hall. 

"Yeah. Good luck with that." Lydia moved to reapply her lipstick in her locker door mirror. 

"That's all you've got for me? Really? Come on. Lydia Martin: destroyer of men's hearts, queen bee." Stiles frowned, trying the ego stroking angle instead. 

Lydia capped her lipstick, sighed, and turned to him with a very put-upon expression. 

"Destroyer of men's hearts? Ugh. Nevermind. Stiles, maybe it's a werewolf thing. Ask one of them." 

That wasn't actually half-bad advice, but Stiles wasn't about to go to any of the wolves in Derek's pack about this, and especially not the only one he'd feel comfortable asking (who's name remained on his shunned list for the time being). 

...Which turned out to be only until later that night. Scott appeared on his windowsill, scaring Stiles into a half-stumble before he realized it was his best friend and not a certain rugged and frustrating individual. 

"I brought a peace offering."

Stiles crossed his arms and glared at him. Scott waved what looked like a game case in the air.

"It's aliens and cowboys. I heard it's really cool." 

Stiles fought his interest; the bastard knew him too well. Scott slid from a crouch to a sitting position on his windowsill, his hopeful face more subdued. 

"Ok, I was a dick."

"Yes you were," Stiles nodded. 

"You know I was just worried about you. But if you really like him..." Scott sighed. "As weird as that still is to me, I can... learn to adjust."

Stiles let his arms fall to his sides and quickly crossed the distance between them, seizing the game in Scott's hands. 

" _Please_ let it be space cowboys and not just regular cowboys," Stiles prayed, carefully inspecting the description on the back. 

An hour later, Scott was reluctantly prying the controller from Stiles's hands and saying goodnight. 

"So... we're good?" Scott clarified as he stopped next to the windowsill, poised to jump. 

"Can I talk about Derek stuff without you getting all huffy?"

Scott shrugged, his expression pained but fighting for neutral. 

"I'll do my best."

"Then we're cool," Stiles agreed. Scott beamed at him, Stiles blinked, and he was gone. 

Stiles missed his Adderall dosage so he was crashing hard, and with a headache no less. He dragged his clothes off and settled like a weight into the bed, unwilling to move his hands even to cover himself up with the comforter. He stared at the ceiling, allowing himself a small smile. He and Scott were good again, Derek had somewhat (sort of) agreed to being his boyfriend, and nothing was currently trying to maim or dismember him or his friends. All in all, he was on an upswing of the crazy roller coaster of living in Beacon Hills. 

Stiles stiffened at the unmistakable sound of his window opening. He prayed briefly that it was Scott and that he'd forgotten something, and not an evil creature coming along to ruin their no in-group murder streak. Stiles had started sleeping with a knife in his bedside table, but getting to it without alerting whatever it was to his presence might be an unforeseen problem in this case. 

Stiles squinted in the dark at the shape moving toward him, and inexplicably recognized something about the way it moved.

"Derek?"

The Derek-shaped shadow's face finally materialized out of the darkness as he grew close enough. He gestured wordlessly at Stiles and Stiles stared at him blankly, shocked, until Derek growled, "move over."

Stiles's body reacted faster than his mind, and it wasn't until he was making room and Derek was sliding in next to him on his suddenly too narrow bed that Stiles's mouth caught up too.

"A little warning. Or a, 'hey Stiles, it's me,' would be appreciated next time. Just drop me a text, at least. I could have been... doing things. Important things."

Derek didn't reply, still getting comfortable next to him.  

"I could have stabbed you," Stiles tried, soaking in the situation. Derek snorted, as though the idea of Stiles landing a hit was hilarious. Rude. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping?" Derek replied easily as he finally settled on his back. 

Stiles stared at him, a strange mixture of irritation, fondness, nerves and confusion pooling in his chest and fighting for control of his mouth. In the end, Derek stole his words from him when he reached out an arm and awkwardly pulled Stiles in until he was resting against his chest. It was warm, warmer than up on the mountain, now in the comfort of his own room and with no reason for it other than Derek wanting to be close. Stiles was... warm, inside and out. And ironically, he felt safer than he had in a long time. 

And that was something he really couldn't argue with.  

 

* * *

 

 

It was a nice (slightly strange but mostly nice) habit to get into, sleeping together. Stiles would try to initiate actual conversation over text to minimal success, Derek would grunt or sass responses over the phone as Stiles tried to talk to him, he'd let Stiles in when he came over to the loft unannounced and worked on homework just to quietly exist in the same space with him, and every night, regardless of whether they'd joked or argued or even talked over the course of the day, Derek would climb through his window and into bed with him.

Awkward boners were somewhat of an issue considering Derek still wouldn't do anything with Stiles's or let him touch his own, but Stiles otherwise couldn't complain about lazy morning kisses and cuddling through the night. 

Well, _Stiles_ couldn't complain. He realized his _dad_ had a few complaints when he woke up to him standing next to Stiles's bed with a gun in his hands. To his credit, it wasn't pointed at Derek. Yet. 

"Haven't I arrested you before?" his dad asked quietly, raising an eyebrow at Stiles's bedmate. 

"Uh. Dad." Stiles gaped, completely awake faster than he'd ever been. "Hi?"

"Someone better start talking quick," his dad growled. 

"You didn't hear him?" Stiles hissed at Derek, who's eyes were trained carefully on the gun in the Sherriff's hands. "You have super hearing!"

"Super hearing?" his father asked with more than just a note of irritation. 

"Yeah, he's got, uh, really, really great hearing. Like --" 

"Another time, Stiles. Explain. Now."

"Well," Stiles started only for his dad to cut him off again. 

"Not you. Him." The sheriff's lip curled and he cocked his gun threateningly. "You're aware my son's still seventeen?"

"Yes." Stiles could feel Derek swallow next to him. 

"Come on, dad. No one's taking advantage of anyone. You know in most of America the age of legal consent is 16." 

"Not in California, fortunately. Up, Derek. I'm going to enjoy cuffing you."

"Dad!" Stiles tossed the covers back and would have laughed at his father's knee-jerk response of throwing his hand out and looking away if the situation weren't so tense. "I'm fully clothed, Derek too. We're not doing anything you can arrest him for. And, not that it's any of your _business_ , but we never have."

His dad slowly lowered his hand and peeked at Stiles cautiously. A look of relief crossed his face as he verified Stiles's lack of nudity. Then the storm returned and he scowled at Stiles. 

"Everyone downstairs in five minutes. You! If you go out that window, I will track you down." 

"He'll be there." Stiles shooed his father out of his room and shut the door behind him. He went surprisingly easily. Stiles turned and sagged against the door. "Well, that could have gone better."

"Better? He was going to shoot me." Derek looked slack-jawed. 

"Yeah, you really have got to stop surprising Stilinskis. We spook easy and we have weapons," Stiles warned. Derek rolled his eyes and stood from the bed, all quick, tense movements and jittery energy. Stiles watched him for a moment before moving to put a hand on his arm. 

"I didn't bring any other clothes." Derek looked down at his sweats and tank top in despair. 

"I think we missed our opportunity for an ideal 'meet the parent' situation about fifty stops back." Stiles rubbed his arm -- his giant, muscly, super-hot arm, _no Stiles, focus_ \-- in what he hoped was a soothing way. "He'll deal. I have to get down there and help with breakfast. Take a few minutes to chill yourself out -- this might get rough." 

"Rough?" Stiles had never seen Derek look that panicked before and they'd fought monsters together. He stifled a smile. 

"He probably won't pull his gun on you again. Probably." 

"Stiles," Derek growled, somewhere between frustrated and pleading. 

"I'll do what I can, I swear. I'll make chocolate chip pancakes. He loves those." 

His dad was eerily quiet when Stiles trudged down the stairs and started mixing together the pancake mix. He sat at the table and sipped his coffee in a decidedly passive-aggressive way and pretended to read the paper (even though Stiles could tell he was just fuming quietly).

When Derek finally appeared, Stiles thought maybe he ran a brush through his hair and possibly brushed his teeth judging by the tiny smidgen of white on his lips. He looked... well, he looked like Derek always did-- impossibly hot and intimidating, and yet sort of fragile at the same time.

"Sit." To his father's credit, he sounded calmer. He kicked a chair out and Derek sat, looking stiff. 

The Sheriff stared at Derek and Derek stared back, though less intensely. Stiles thought wildly for a moment about pretending to choke or die on the ground as a distraction from the horrible awkwardness of it all, but opted to stir the pancake mix faster instead. 

"So, how long have you been sleeping in my house?" 

Derek visibly swallows. 

"About a week."

"You are the person my son snuck out with over the weekend."

Stiles nearly dropped his stirring spoon, splattering batter over the kitchen counter in his flurry to catch it. 

"You knew about that?" Stiles squawked.

"I do now." His dad's mouth twitched with victory even though his eyebrows were still all serious business. "I had my suspicions. And I'm supposed to believe you're not sleeping together?" 

"Dad, we're obviously sleeping together," Stiles said before his brain caught up with his snark. His dad's eyes bugged out of his head before Derek came to his rescue. 

"Just sleeping, nothing else." 

"Again, I'm supposed to believe that?" The Sheriff's mouth was a hard line as he turned his glare on Derek once more. 

"It's the truth," Derek said simply, and the dude could pull off earnest when he needed, _thank god_. Stiles could tell the moment his dad decided to believe him -- his shoulders relaxed a bit and he sat back in his chair. 

"Alright. My gut backs you up on that. So." An evil smile lit his father's face. "I hope you two are ready to get very uncomfortable." 

"Dad..."

"No arguments. You owe me this for never introducing him as your boyfriend." 

"Cause I knew you'd react like this!" Stiles pointed out. 

"Regardless." The Sheriff waved his hand. "First: you're coming to breakfast as a regular thing. Saturday or Sunday?" 

Derek swallowed again, his eyes darting to Stiles before he answered. "Both?"

The Sheriff's mouth twitched in another hint of a real smile. 

"That wasn't a half-bad answer. Both it is. Second: we're having a talk about consent, age, and condoms."

"Dad!" Stiles moaned, curling over the bowl in his arms as he leaned against the counter.

"Non-negotiable. Happening tomorrow. And it is in no way a blessing for you two to break the law, only a precaution because I'm not stupid and if you do have _legal sex -- meaning_  after Stiles is an adult -- I want the peace of mind of knowing you did it correctly."

"Correctly, Dad? Really? _Correctly_?" Stiles wasn't going to have to fake choking and dying on the floor anymore. It was happening. He was going to choke on his own embarrassment and die right then and there. 

"That seems fair." Derek said carefully, evenly, and Stiles was suddenly so much more appreciative of the guy's poker face. The Sheriff nodded and finally, finally started asking normal questions, like how long they'd been dating and where they met. 

The pancakes cheered his dad up considerably and even seemed to brighten Derek's attitude, resulting in a semi-normal breakfast conversation after their arrival.

The Sheriff let Derek walk out the front door without an escort, which Stiles half expected after their gun happy wake-up call, and Stiles managed to kiss Derek quickly on the mouth before his dad called him back in the kitchen.  

"Don't keep something like this from me again, Stiles. I mean it." His dad gave him the stern 'I'm not kidding around here' look Stiles knew so well. 

"I knew you'd freak out about the age difference. What was I supposed to do?" Stiles sighed. 

"As long as I'm not aware of any illegal activities, and he's a good person who's good to you and deserves you, then I have no reason to freak out." The Sheriff made it sound completely reasonable and not at all the carefully veiled warning it was.  _  
_

"The difference in age of consent is so arbitrary. If I was living in Kansas, there'd be no issue with our relationship, and we both know that's stupid. Really. You know it and I know it."

"Maybe. But the law is the law, and I'm an officer of the law, Stiles. When you're an adult, you can do what you want. And that's coming soon. Only a few more months until you're eighteen."

"Right." Stiles bristled, but he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere arguing with his dad about legal stuff. It was familiar territory that he'd found a similar answer to over the years. "You liked him," Stiles pointed out, feeling smug. That much he could tell. 

"Yeah, when he's not in handcuffs."

"He was cleared of charges!" Stiles insisted.

"I know." The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean I can just erase that from my memory. But his second impression wasn't half bad. I look forward to getting to know him at breakfast from now on." 

Stiles smiled at that, an uncontrollable smile that fought its way onto his lips.

"No more guns."

"It takes away my clout, though." 

"No more guns, dad!"

"Fine, fine."  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOOOoooo... just keep in mind that this is a fluffy romcom. Fluffy romcom. Repeat that to yourself. Keep breathing and keep reading. Almost there.

Stiles blacked out for most of his father's mandatory sex ed -- or at least he wished he did. The image of his father waving a box of condoms at them as he blustered his way through the most awkward and stilted lecture on protection, consent, and the law was probably something he'd never rid himself of, no matter his efforts. His dad was very clear on one thing: he didn't want to be made aware about any illegal activity between the two of them, because he had an obligation to arrest Derek if that was the case. 

So he didn't want to  _know_  about it; that didn't mean, necessarily, that it couldn't happen. Stiles got the sense that if his dad really disapproved of Derek he would have taken more drastic measures to keep them apart than a friendly little bout of intimidation. 

"I wish I could douse my brain with bleach," Stiles moaned as he collapsed onto his bed and Derek sat at his desk, eerily still. "Too bad it would kill me. Actually, not too bad -- Derek, be a pal and get me some bleach?" 

"Your dad loves you," Derek said quietly. "You have a good relationship." 

Stiles sat up and noticed for the first time the pensive, almost peaceful expression on Derek's face. 

"Derek, that right there was horrifying-- embarrassing to the enth degree." 

"True." Derek smiled at him, a small, rare smile. "But I can respect the motivation." 

"Thank god this is the one thing you're mature about. Lesser men might have been scared off by that." Stiles sighed and collapsed back onto his bed to wallow in his misery. 

"One thing?" Derek asked with a note of hot irritation as Stiles rubbed at his own eyes.

It was a Sunday morning, and they had nothing to do as far as Stiles knew. Derek looked like he was in one of his quiet, thoughtful moods that he didn't seem to appreciate Stiles's constant chatter throughout, so Stiles took the hint and pulled out some of his school books. Derek quietly clicked around on Stiles's computer while Stiles muttered to himself over AP psych and calculus. 

At one point when he was supposed to be memorizing parts of the brain, Stiles lifted his head.

"What would your parents think?" It was a risky question, a potentially hurtful one, but Stiles needed to broach the subject at some point. 

"About us or about you being underage?" Derek asked. On the surface he looked the same as before Stiles had asked. 

"EIther." Stiles just wanted to hear Derek talk about his parents. 

"My mom wouldn't have an issue with us. But for what I want, she would tell me to wait." Derek sounded quite confident about that. 

"What you want?" Stiles asked. He felt weirdly nervous about that question. 

Derek stared at him for a moment before looking back to the computer. 

"My dad... I'm not sure. He would like you. He wouldn't like our age difference, but he'd get over it." 

"Yeah? He'd tell you to wait for... whatever you want?" 

"Stiles," Derek said softly, chiding. 

"Tell me," Stiles insisted, sitting all the way up and concentrating on Derek-- his posture, the way the computer screen illuminated his expression. "C'mon, you should know better anyway -- it's not in my nature to let things go." This was the part of Derek that Stiles couldn't resist pushing on, the part that liked to keep himself to himself. Stiles wanted to share Derek with Derek. "It's not sex... I'm pretty sure." 

"It's not sex," Derek confirmed with a shake of his head. 

"Then what is it?" 

"It's kind of early on to be having this conversation." 

"Derek, I need to know what's going on. You did bring it up," Stiles said definitively. Stiles had spent many a night watching Derek sleep peacefully next to him and wondering at his inscrutability. Stiles asked himself why Derek was there one moment and gone the next and what could possibly decompress the years of repression and untangle the mess inside. He didn't have answers, but while Stiles could understand part of Derek's mess (it was eerily similar to his own), he knew it couldn't stay untouched if they wanted to sustain their relationship. They had to get to work on it, and Derek had spent so much time intentionally burying it that it was clearly up to Stiles to reverse that impulse. Stiles had to push, not too hard and not too much, but enough to get Derek to budge when it was important.

Derek took a deep breath that moved his whole body. He walked over to the bed, sat down next to Stiles, and took his hand. He brought it to his lap and traced a finger over Stiles's skin for a moment, watching the movement. Stiles leaned closer out of instinct, wanting to feel Derek's warmth and smell his intoxicating smell. The silence was killing Stiles. He didn't know if Derek was going to argue more or finally give in.

When Derek finally spoke, he sounded resigned but also somewhat peaceful.  

"A werewolf takes one mate in its lifetime. Humans can have more than that, but a werewolf doesn't take more than one." 

Stiles's heart stuttered in his chest and he found himself gaping at Derek. His hand went from comfortably warm to clammy and sweaty in about a half a second.

"You want... you want me? Are you serious?" 

Derek nodded hesitantly, his eyes unreadable as he watched Stiles's reaction. He let his hand go loose so Stiles could take his own hand away if he wanted to, but Stiles didn't. 

"Not yet, not even soon, but eventually that's what I want from us. I can't help feeling like this; it's a deep-set instinct, as you saw. This decision, at least for me, is life-long, which is why we have to wait until you're older and we're both ready and able to decide that." 

Stiles felt kind of boneless in his shock, like if Derek touched him he would just tip over without a struggle. He took a deep breath to match Derek's, his thoughts flitting in a thousand different directions with a thousand different questions on the tip of his tongue. 

"I need to know more about what this means. Like, is this a one-person-per-lifetime kind of thing? I'm  _it_  it, and there's no one else out there for you? And is this the equivalent of a 'wait til marriage for sex' kind of thing? Do we have to wait until we're mated to have sex? How does the whole 'mating' process work? How long, exactly, do we have to wait until we're 'ready' to make the decision?"

Derek looked far more tense when he interrupted Stiles. "I don't have an answer for some of that. I just know what little my parents told me about it," he said stiffly. Stiles realized that in his shock he was thinking about himself and not Derek. 

"Hey," Stiles gripped the hand he was still holding and shuffled closer on the bed until their bodies pressed together. "Thank you for telling me. And I'm not freaking out or anything, I'm just--"

"Being you," Derek finished for him dryly. 

"Exactly. I need to research the fuck out of this and then I'll feel better. But seriously, I really appreciate you telling me. And it's definitely a good thing to hear from your boyfriend that you're really into that you want to be with me for basically ever. Definitely an ego boost." Derek sat quietly next to him. Stiles could feel his body relax against him somewhat as Stiles spoke. "You know that, right? That I'm really into you too?" Stiles repeated softly, leaning even closer to rest his chin on Derek's shoulder. Derek turned his head to catch Stiles's lips with a soft, explorative kiss that felt vulnerable and tender in a way Stiles didn't want to ruin. Derek broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Stiles's, giving them both time to recover before speaking again. 

"I don't think it's the sort of thing where if you say no I'll never find anyone else. Just because I haven't met someone I wanted as my mate before doesn't mean I won't if you decide against it. About that, I'm pretty confident. As far as sex goes... no, we don't have to wait until we're mated. I want to wait a little more, but that's not the reason."

"Ok. That's good to know," Stiles whispered, still brain-fried from their amazing kiss. 

"Tell me what you find out with your research and I'll see what I can find out on my own," Derek said. 

"Ok." Now that they were so close together, Stiles couldn't concentrate very well on words. Stiles leaned in to nibble on Derek's ear. Touch, touch was good. Derek touching him back was better. Lips. Stiles wanted lips. 

"I'm starting to regret this open-door policy I instituted." Nothing could kill Stiles's boner faster than the sound of his father's voice. Derek pulled back immediately while Stiles was left playing catch-up. 

"Dad, you get what you pay for." Stiles threw at his father as he disappeared behind the frame of the door, the clicking of his boots marking his descent down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Stiles's existence always seemed tinged with irony. Someone somewhere obviously had a cruel sense of humor. 

The day after Derek told him he wanted to be with him forever, he disappeared. They looked everywhere. Erica was so sure he wasn't dead, she reassured Stiles again and again, but none of them could feel that special werewolf connection with him anymore and Stiles knew what that meant.

Then the alphas came. Red eyes gleaming, they promised with simmering malice that they'd never see Derek again. The pack wailed with outrage and charged for the attack. Stiles felt something click out of place, and suddenly being inside his own skin seemed wrong.

In the bloody aftermath when most of them escaped with scars inside and out, Stiles sank into a corner of Deacon's clinic and waited for the crushing weight in his stomach to lift. 

 

* * *

 

A year passed before it did. 

Stiles had learned to put thoughts of Derek into the place where he kept thoughts about his mother, and slowly he moved on with his life. He thought about college -- UC Berkley -- and when he got in it seemed like finally, _finally_ Beacon Hills and all the wonder and horror of it might be put to rest for good. 

They'd eventually had to sell the loft, but Stiles still had the Hale house to go to when he wanted to remember Derek. He didn't go often, but once in a while when he needed to say something to Derek he would. He was leaving for Berkley in a week; it seemed right to say goodbye. 

Stiles sat on the front steps of the Hale house and inhaled the clean forest smell. The wood creaked under his weight as he gazed out at the woods, suddenly lost for words. That painful weight in his stomach surged and Stiles felt tears prickle his eyes. He rubbed his palm at them and willed the words to surface from under the sadness. 

"Sourwolf," Stiles finally breathed into the empty space of the forest. "Wish you were here." 

Stiles jumped at the sound of a howl. He leapt to his feet, eyes tearing across the surroundings as possibilities flashed through his mind.

"Scott?" Stiles asked warningly. The forest was quiet with its secret. Stiles started walking to the relative safety of his car, adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

Stiles didn't have time to identify the black blur that burst from behind the house. It ran towards him, a coursing image of fur and darkness, and bowled him over. Before Stiles could place the sense of familiarity of the crushing weight and accompanying loss of breath, the dark fur under his hands shifted into smooth, sweaty skin that Stiles knew in an instant.

He couldn't quite believe, though, that after a year of grieving the death of his ex-boyfriend he was naked and sweaty on top of him without so much as a "hello". 

"Derek?" Stiles gasped as soon as he returned the air to his lungs. "Derek?" He yelled, louder, in a confused panic. Derek groaned, gasping almost as forcefully as Stiles, his limbs shaking as he pushed from the ground to put some space between the two of them. 

At the sight of Derek's hauntingly beautiful face, more beautiful than Stiles remembered, he forgot the aching pain in his back from being knocked to the ground and surged to right the distance between them. He clung to Derek with uncertainty, feeling the shape of his body and the smell of him and hoping desperately that this wasn't some supernatural hallucination, some cruel trick of a fairy or some shit that would be stolen from him after heating his emotions to the boiling point. Stiles could barely comprehend the tide of twisting feelings at holding Derek, the tears in his eyes as he pulled back and searched Derek's face. It was a little smudged with dirt and sweat, but otherwise Derek looked healthy, if just as bewildered as Stiles.

" _Derek_. God, Derek, what the hell? Are you ok?" Stiles's voice cracked again as he pulled him closer, tighter, with renewed fear that he would disappear as quickly as he came. 

"Stiles," Derek murmured, finally closing his arms around Stiles's body. "You're... taller." 

"Derek, what the hell?" Stiles repeated, a mere whisper as his throat closed around the words. 

"I was lost," Derek said, his voice choked like Stiles's. 

 

* * *

 

Stiles was never leaving Derek's side again. 

After he got him home, the Sheriff was smart enough to clap Derek on the back with a welcome and then leave them alone. Stiles was officially an adult, and while he was still living under the Sheriff's roof he now had the power (well, more power) to determine who stayed in his room after hours. 

He let Derek shower and dress before he unleashed the growing number of questions in his head, though he had enough good sense to do it with Derek lying down next to him and in hushed tones. 

"I had no idea I was gone so long," Derek whispered, staring off in confusion at some spot just beside Stiles's head. 

"What happened?" Stiles asked again, more insistent even though his voice stayed gentle. 

Derek's beard was longer, the stark color of his eyes harsher. More surprising. The sinew of his muscles was leaner from a year spent living as a wolf in the woods. 

"A pack of alphas cornered me. One of them knew about my wolf issues -- Shadow. He laughed and said that I was "unstable" and would be easy to take out. I don't remember what happened after that. It's just the woods, for days and days, in blurs, and then your smell; the sound of your voice."

Stiles shuddered at the thought of Derek alone, confused, and so goddamn close by for a whole year. The other werewolves had avoided the Hale property out of respect, but maybe if they hadn't they would have smelled him. 

"God, Derek. _A year_. You were gone for a year. I thought..."

"I was dead." Derek's eyes sharpened on him in an instant. "You thought I was dead."

"Yes," Stiles confirmed. "You were cut off from the pack in your wolf form. We all did." 

Derek's expression grew heavy. 

"I'm sorry."

Stiles shook his head.

"You're back."

"Yeah."

Stiles smiled and Derek's face softened in response. That thing inside Stiles that was knocked out of place fit back in. 

Stiles pressed his lips against Derek's, urgent and tender. Derek sighed and relaxed into him and everything was good, the last year of grief and longing lifted up in a moment. The shape of what Derek meant to him, the possibilities now that he was back, formed into a single thought that Stiles chased as eagerly as he pressed into Derek.

Stiles lost track of time like he lost track of their clothes. Time was a foreign concept when Derek was kissing the meeting of his shoulder and neck, sparks flying down Stiles's spine and relief shuddering in his heart. Derek's mouth left a trail of tingling magic as he made his way down Stiles's body, caressing Stiles like he'd missed him as much as Stiles had. Stiles muffled his euphoria into his pillow as Derek's mouth found new places to attend to.

Derek's eyes were dark and hooded as he knelt over him to pull off his pants, and Stiles in his desire pulled his underwear off with them. Derek swallowed Stiles's groan of arousal as he pressed Stiles back into the bed and let his warm skin slide along Stiles's burning skin. Stiles snaked a hand between them without thinking about it, a shock of desire plummeting through his stomach as he found Derek hard next to his own erection. He grasped them both in hand and thrust experimentally to the sound of Derek's groan. It ended in a breathless laugh. 

"Lube." Derek's eyes crinkled at the edges as he pressed his forehead to Stiles's. 

"My bedside table. Back of the drawer." 

Stiles gaped at the sight of Derek's strong body stretched out in front of him, but Derek returned to kiss his nerves away before the rabbit-quick steps of his heart in his ears could overwhelm him. A slippery hand grasped them both and Stiles shuddered as Derek's cock slid against him and everything went kind of this way and that. 

"Inside," Stiles urged. "I want you inside." 

Derek's forehead creased and he studied him. "You sure?"

"I'm sure." He'd thought about it enough that he knew exactly what he wanted. He'd thought about Derek a lot, in every way, and come to many other conclusions since he'd been gone. Stiles moved Derek's hand to between his legs and Derek easily took the lead from there, pinning Stiles's other hand above his head as he pressed his finger into Stiles without another word. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut at the pain of the pleasure, but as Derek fingered him he loosened to his touch, and when Derek scraped his teeth along Stiles's shoulder Stiles forgot his tension to the spike of arousal.

Stiles thought he might be dreaming when Derek flipped him onto his stomach and eased his way in, clutching Stiles close to his chest and teasing him with heavy breaths along his neck. Stiles spread his legs against his instinct, an act of trust and desire, and Derek pulled him tighter along his chest, more exposed, and wrapped a hand around his cock to stroke him in rhythm with his thrusts. Stiles gasped at the sensation and Derek nuzzled closer to his ear, inhaling sharply and growling his appreciation. 

Stiles drifted into a haze of surrealism, nothing but the feeling of Derek moving inside him and his hot breath along Stiles's neck, saying impossible things if Stiles listened carefully, mostly about Stiles's smell. Derek had a lot to say about Stiles's smell. "Need" wasn't a word Stiles had heard from Derek before, and to hear it now when he was fucking him into what would likely end in a sweet blackout, further removed Stiles from the reality of Derek right there next to him.

"You jackass," Stiles managed as Derek twisted and Stiles moved with him and suddenly he was straddling Derek and looking down at his flushed chest and slackened jaw. "You realize you told me you loved me and then left me for nearly a year."

"I never said 'loved'," Derek panted, watching the movement of their hips as Stiles rode him.  

"Jackass," Stiles reiterated pointedly to Derek's sharp bark of laughter. 

"Derek..." Stiles slowed, reaching to the point where Derek speared him. "What's this?" He only realized how rude it could be to ask that after the words had left him mouth, but that was life as Stiles. Derek knew what he was getting into.  

"My knot." Derek seemed to flush more at the attention, but he didn't look away.

"Knot." Stiles felt along the bump at the base of Derek's cock, a hard mass Stiles definitely didn't recognize from his own anatomy. "What's..."

  
"It doesn't... it only happens on special occasions. Not with everyone." Derek said meaningfully, lifting his eyebrows. He ran a hand casually down Stiles's thigh and back up to his hip. Stiles stared down between them and tested his body along the knot. It stretched him, but Stiles could get down around it if he pushed himself. 

"I'm special." Stiles grinned through a moan as he slid back up and down over the bump. 

"Very." Derek grinned back, rolling them suddenly until he had Stiles pressed beneath him. "You like it? You're using it like you do." 

"It's..." Stiles gasped as Derek pushed in, fully sheathing himself inside Stiles before drawing back to a pleasant stretch in Stiles's ass. "God, yes, I like it." 

"It's more than just a bump," Derek upped his pace and knocked Stiles breathless with the sensation of the knot stretching his rim on each stroke. "It's for filling you up." 

Stiles's mouth fell open at that, and Derek took advantage of the action to drive his point home with a filthy kiss, wet and receptive and effective at wiping Stiles's mind blank.

"What..." Stiles groaned again as Derek's thrusts grew forceful and rocked him inches up on his bed. Stiles struggled to rearrange his pillows so he wouldn't end up bumping into his bed frame on every thrust.

"Shhh," Derek reminded him with a playful bite at his throat. "Your dad's sleeping downstairs. You don't want to wake him."

"Jackass," Stiles managed to mumble, but the sensation shooting through him was too much. "You better shut me up then bec-uhhhhn- ause no way I ca - aaaahhh get through this --"

"Over," Derek directed him, withdrawing only long enough for Stiles to roll onto his stomach before Derek was driving back into him. He blanketed his body, threading his fingers between Stiles's own and pinning Stiles completely to the bed. Stiles did his best to hold up under the incessant pounding, Derek's strength moving him along the bed with each thrust. "Bite the pillow."

"You serious?"

"Stiles." Derek groaned it against his back where Stiles could feel their skin meet and stick with sweat. 

"Oh, fuck," Stiles cursed irritably, but he shoved his face into the light cushion just in time to muffle another moan as Derek pressed tight against Stiles's ass. Stiles felt Derek hitch there, and his sudden stillness left Stiles confused for only a brief moment before he felt it. 

"Fuck," Stiles repeated, louder this time, and Derek moved to cover Stiles's mouth securely with his hand. Soothing kisses along Stiles's shoulders did little to calm the panicked throbbing of his heart and the stabs of pleasure and pain in his ass as... something... was happening. 

"Knotting you," Derek explained finally, his voice choked and strained. "Hush."

Stiles struggled to speak for a moment under Derek's vice grip, but the waves of intensity were almost too much and he felt himself losing strength. He closed his eyes, riding out the sensations as they wracked his body. Derek was everywhere, hard and hot and sweaty, pinning him and lifting him at the same time. Stiles gave into it at the same time stars exploded behind his eyes and his own orgasm broke free from the waves of mounting pleasure. 

 

* * *

 

He was right; Derek had fucked him into a sweet blackout. It was more than a little embarrassing waking up after said blackout, totally confused by the throbbing in his ass and the naked body thrown possessively over most of his own. 

Derek moved when he did, apparently waiting for him to wake up. 

"How do you feel?" he asked softly. It was dark, and obviously Stiles had been out for a while. The light from Stiles's computer nearby was enough to light up Derek's concerned expression. 

"I -- you're still alive. And you're so hot. I forgot how hot you are. Dude. My ass. Did we wake up my dad?" Stiles whispered hurriedly as the thoughts occurred to him.

"You're fine," Derek breathed, sounding relieved. He settled his head against Stiles's chest, sniffing quietly. 

"Are you smelling me?"

"Shut up," Derek grouched. 

"Hey, I'm not about to start complaining about your wolf instincts after that... whatever that was." 

"Knotted," Derek said quietly. He trailed a hand along Stiles's stomach, feeling the hair. "I knotted you. I'm sorry -- I should have talked to you about it beforehand. It was too much." 

"Again, no complaints." Stiles grinned at the ceiling. "Can you do that, like, whenever? Because on the one hand, I'm not sure I can handle blacking out every time we have sex, but on the other hand... like, sign me up, you know? That was awesome." 

"It shouldn't happen every time. Just sometimes."

"Because I'm special? You said it." Stiles ventured, grinning more. 

"Yes," Derek admitted almost grudgingly. 

"So... you're agreeing that I'm special," Stiles started slowly. 

"I thought that was clear when you woke me up from my year-long stupor as a wolf." 

Stiles was starting to realize that Derek was a between-the-sentences kind of guy. He didn't think he'd get a lot out of his mouth, maybe ever, but he could count on him to show it when it mattered. And while Stiles was really more of a sentences guy himself, he could definitely deal with a doer over a talker. He could talk enough for the both of them, honestly. 

"Derek," Stiles sighed. "What are we going to do with Shadow? You're not disappearing like that again." 

"I feel... more centered now. I don't think I'm fixed, but I'm better," Derek offered, rolling until his head rested in the crook of Stiles's shoulder and arm. He lifted a human-looking hand and flexed his claws, watching the movement. "I doubt I'll be able to sew that tear completely until we're mated." 

"Ah," Stiles said, flushing at the idea. "Right. Until we're mated. Well. I'm cool with that, you know, whenever." 

Derek eyed him from under one of his heavy eyebrows. 

"Cool with it." 

"Yeah." 

"Whenever."

"Right." 

"And you say _I'm_ not romantic." Derek chuckled and turned until he was tucked into Stiles's body again. He threaded their legs and stilled, letting Stiles trail a hand through his thick, dark hair. 

"You did wake your dad up." 

Stiles closed his eyes, all the air rushing from his lungs with the force of his humiliation. 

"That'll be fun to deal with tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow." Derek yawned against his chest. "I have to go to the rest of the pack. I still feel like their alpha, so I'm guessing I haven't been replaced..." 

"No, you haven't." Stiles reassured him. "We'll deal with everything tomorrow, I guess." 

"Together." Stiles almost didn't catch the word breathed against him, but it left him smiling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My big "surprise" that may come as no surprise in reality is that this was a fandom challenge to write a fanfic for a work you've never seen/read before. This fic (at the beginning anyway) was written entirely off of what I had learned from other fanfic of teen wolf. BUT I broke down about halfway through and started watching the actual show... I only got to season 2 so I'm sure there were quite a few inconsistencies in this story, but it ended up being a fun writing exercise for me :). Thanks for reading!


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